The Art of Dying
The hallway we were in
curved around the oddly shaped building and just like Billy thought, it curved
all the way around to the other docent door. I was about to pull the door open
when I heard a few more gunshots way too close for comfort.
“I think we’ve got a
problem.”
“Open it. That’s the only
way we’re going to find out.”
I leaned against the door
so it wouldn’t pop open and spill us out. I turned the knob and pulled slowly.
I peered through the crack to find two gunmen standing there with their backs
to us, tracking something above them.
I looked back at Billy
and held up two fingers. He nodded, bracing himself. I counted down with my
finger from five, and on zero, I yanked the door open. Billy launched out the
door in flying kick. He slammed into the back of the gunman on the right,
dropping him to the ground face first slamming, his chin on the floor. The
other gunman was completely shocked by the sudden movement, and I took the
opportunity. I launched out and crescent kicked the other one from his blind
side and slammed him into the ground, hard.
They were both out, and
now we had a group staring at us from across the gallery opening. I looked to
the right and saw the door into the other gallery. The other exit would be in
there, and I ducked in after motioning to Billy what I was doing.
He nodded, and I ran in.
I spotted the door; it was locked and alarmed. I stared at it for just a moment
and then decided the alarm didn’t matter. I kicked it open and the lights and
trigged all the alarms.
The group standing in the
gallery started streaming in, panicked. I just held the door open and motioned
them out. “Head for Madison.” I directed as they streamed out into the street.
“Go, go, run. Head for Madison.”
They were all running as
fast as they could and were gone down the street. I ducked behind the wall to
the gallery where I had left Billy to find him surrounded by a group of gunmen,
all pointing their weapons at him.
Damn.
The room was loud with
the alarms going off and the lights were distracting. I used that—I pulled out
a few of the shiruken. I set my feet and then threw them. I managed to get two
of them into gun barrels I was staring at, and then two of them ended up in the
wrists of the gunmen who were angled away from me.
The rest of the gunmen
turned to find me standing there. I crooked my head and smiled. They didn’t see
Billy move and toss himself on the ground to sweep their legs out from under
them, landing them in a pile. That distracted them again and I ran over and
knocked out two more of them, while Billy went back to the two original gunmen
and took them down. They had been too stunned to move, and he took them down in
a heartbeat.
The Wraith was standing
in front of the last group of guests, with the gunmen all moving slowly closer
to her. They were very soon going to be too close for her to stop the bullets
if they fired. Billy motioned me to the back of the line of gunmen and gave me
the signal.
The signal. We had been
working on these moves for nearly a month now, and I wanted to be nervous, but
we didn’t have time for that. We both stepped forward and tucked into a roll,
vaulting up into a handstand. At the same time, we both pushed up into a series
of back hand springs that took us right into the gunmen.
I used the momentum to
knock myself into two of them and slam them chest first into the floor. I used
still more of the momentum to turn a roundhouse at the gunman on my right,
shoving him into the one on his right. The gun went off and the first guy I
kicked got shot in the knee by the one he had fallen into. I turned back just
in time to hear the gun cock in my face. I dropped back into a bridge as the
trigger was pulled, and shot my foot up and into the elbow of the guy with the
gun. It snapped his arm up and launched the freshly fired gun into the air.
I continued the back-hand
walk-over and popped up in front of another gunman who was stunned but bringing
his gun up. I cocked my head and shot my fist out. I snapped his head back and
his whole body snapped back with it, slamming him onto his back on the ground.
I heard the air rush out of his lungs.
I turned around and saw
that they were all down. It was just me and Billy and the Wraith standing in
the middle of the floor. The cops were standing in the broken doors and even
they were shocked at what had just happened.
Not nearly as much as
Billy and I were.
The Wraith turned to the
cops standing there. “Gentlemen. It’s all yours. I believe the Ninjas sent the
other guests to Madison Ave.” She stepped up between us. “We’re done here.”
The Wraith grabbed each
of our arms. “Hang on,” she mumbled.
“No, wait!” someone
yelled from the door.
But she didn’t. We were
up off the floor and up through the broken ceiling window and to the roof next
door before we could even see who had yelled for the Wraith to wait. The flight
was again disconcerting and it freaked me out to have my feet off the ground.
Billy seemed to do better because when she landed, Billy grabbed the briefcase
and nodded to her to get us going again. We were up again and over to the rock
where she had first found us in the park.
“You’re good?” she asked.
“Wait!” came a yell from
the right.
We all turned and saw
Cindy running for us.
“She really wants to talk
to you.” I looked pointedly at the Wraith.
“Not ready for that,” she
said. “She’d be happy with you two.”
I looked at Billy. “Four
weeks. Long enough for an interview?”
He nodded. “I think so.
I’m not going anywhere.”
“Me neither.” I laughed.
“I’m going to go,” the
Wraith said. “Hide the case behind the rock when you’re done changing. I’ll
make sure that no one finds it, and that it gets back to your house.” She nodded
and was gone up into the sky.
I heard Cindy swear as
she ran up to us. “Couldn’t she stay?”
“She’s not ready for that.
We shouldn’t have even stayed.”
“What do you need?” Billy
asked. “They’re going to be looking for you soon.”
“Who are you?” she asked.
“What are your names?”
Billy froze, and I
laughed. I knew he hadn’t thought about that. “We’re ninjas. For the sake of
simplicity in the tradition, we’re simply the White Ninja and Black Ninja.”
“Do you have real names?”
Billy put his fist on his
hip. “Yes, but do you really think we’re sharing?”
“Why do you do this? Dress
up in masks and costumes and save people?”
Taking over the
narrative, because he knew Cindy might recognize my voice, Billy explained, “We’ve
both suffered tragedies in our lives. Since we have the training and
wherewithal to do this…”
“We thought we should try
to spare others the same tragedies.” I kept my voice rough.
“Do you know who those attackers
were in there?” she asked.
I looked at Billy, and he
gave me the eyebrow shrug. He didn’t know if we should say anything yet either.
Yamato had warned us off them, but now they were trying to attack us and hurt
people. “We do know who they are, but we aren’t yet at liberty to say. We don’t
want to go against the police or hinder their investigations, so it’s best we
don’t say anything.”
“Is there any way to get
in contact with you if the city needs saving?”
“Like a Ninja Signal?”
The
Art of Dying
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No one starts out to be a superhero.
But there's my cousin—mask and costume—and I'm convinced she's certifiably insane.
Beth hit it big in Hollywood and created a baseball team so I could play. She started taking martial art lessons and she decided she was going to start ninja'ing around New York City. And that had nothing to do with us losing our mothers and her brother when we were young
See? Insane. I mean, who the hell wants to be a moving target?
Well, I'm not really one to judge. After all, I took those lessons too. I'm out there with her: hiding in shadows, avenging the less- fortunate, saving the damsels in distress--and bachelors in a bind--getting shot at, threatened with death, chased with swords and tossed into situations we had no business being in.
Let's just say that we’re in trouble if phone booths ever go out of style.
We kinda liked it. I guess we're both nuts But no one starts out to be a superhero. No one wants to be the last of a breed of ninjas.
And, no one really wants to learn the art of dying.
No one starts out to be a superhero.
But there's my cousin—mask and costume—and I'm convinced she's certifiably insane.
Beth hit it big in Hollywood and created a baseball team so I could play. She started taking martial art lessons and she decided she was going to start ninja'ing around New York City. And that had nothing to do with us losing our mothers and her brother when we were young
See? Insane. I mean, who the hell wants to be a moving target?
Well, I'm not really one to judge. After all, I took those lessons too. I'm out there with her: hiding in shadows, avenging the less- fortunate, saving the damsels in distress--and bachelors in a bind--getting shot at, threatened with death, chased with swords and tossed into situations we had no business being in.
Let's just say that we’re in trouble if phone booths ever go out of style.
We kinda liked it. I guess we're both nuts But no one starts out to be a superhero. No one wants to be the last of a breed of ninjas.
And, no one really wants to learn the art of dying.
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