With that, he surged forward suddenly, causing the gang to take a step back. But he only went a couple feet and then swept back and to the side. The gang watched in surprise as he actually started dancing to an unheard song, seeming to ignore them.
One of the faster ones got his voice first, “What da fuck, does he think this is going to be? A dance off or some shit? Deon, this is the dude that took you guys down?”
The leader responded before any of the others could. “Don’t matter,” he pulled a switchblade out and popped it. “Time to carve this fucker up!” He rushed forward with the rest of his gang bringing out their knives and joining him in the attack.
They surrounded him. Circling and trying to figure out the best way to attack. The first two attacked when his back was turned. He half-turned, still in time to unheard music, sliding towards them to one side and then twisting against the one sending both stumbling out of the circle before they could catch their balance. The next one moved directly into his face, feinting slashes at different locations. He ignored them as the Song spun his back to the attacker. The attacker immediately went in for the kill only wind up almost flat in the air as he continued the spin; his leg sweeping wide and hard kicking the assailant’s feet high. His hand snapped down on the attacker’s chest, pushing down as he dropped to a knee, slamming the attacker hard into the cement. The thug’s head smacked into the concrete with a sickening crack that made the other gang members wince as their brother went limp, blood starting to spread.
He rose, spun in a full circle, and then faced them, pausing for a half-beat. Then with a blur of hands to his waist a knife was in each hand, and he was moving forward quickly. The six left standing jumped back, but two were just a little slower than the rest. Their hands flailed up in an attempt to stop the blades but his arms and hands twisted to the unheard tune, and their hands touched only air. As he moved past them, they felt a prick and a lurching twist and then he was gone. They looked down and saw blood gushing from holes over their hearts.
By this time, the remaining four had dropped their knives and were clawing for their guns. The first had just gotten a hand on the gun when an already bloody knife slid up along the punk’s neck and into the brain, then out just as fast. The body crumpled before the brain registered it was dead. The second had gotten a gun out, but the blade slid along his throat as well. The second thug’s body followed the first to the floor quickly. The last two had scrambled back fast enough to get their guns out. Both leveled their guns at the masked man. He spun, his coat swinging wide open, and moved to the left and forward. The closest thug’s first bullet went wide due to the spinning coat. The second bullet went wide due to the leader’s shot taking the gunner in the back as the leader tried to track the spinning figure in the darkened warehouse.
The gang leader’s mouth dropped open as the last gang member fell from his own bullet. Before the shock even started to wear off the figure was there. His left-hand blade seemed to spring from leader’s wrist, twisting painfully. Snapping the wrist with a loud crack, the gun fell from nerveless fingers. As he pressed up against his would be killer his right hand flashed twice, and the ex-leader felt a stab in each leg and something warm running down them.
He pushed his lips up next to the now quaking “gangster’s” ear. “Here’s a monologue for you,” he whispered. “Never bring a gun to a knife fight.” He wiped his blades on the thug’s shoulders and then spun away.
As he walked away, he heard a rustle as the leader tried to take a step and mutter something unintelligible. Then a thump as the body hit the floor.
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