They came at me with a ferocity and anger I wouldn’t have expected from them. It took me a moment to get over my shock, but that moment nearly cost me. The taller goon without any visible cards threw a punch and grazed my cheek. I moved just enough to keep from losing some teeth, but the force of it knocked me back. That was when Thoman swung his baton. I did all I could to dodge him. He was slow, but his skill was good.

  I was able to duck my head and avoid a skull-cracking blow, but the attack caught my shoulder. It was a glancing blow, but I felt jarring pain. I suspected that the only reason I dodged it at all was my new enhanced reflexes which had allowed me—or more like forced me—to instinctively dodge. They could keep me alive but not forever. I had to go on the offensive.

  When he hit me in the shoulder, I allowed him to turn me and guide me toward the alley, despite the pain. He thought I would drop or fall backwards, but instead, he spun me around him, and that gave me the opening I needed.

  I came face-to-face with Elryck, who sneered and came at me with his fists raised. He swung, but I ducked the blow easily and slid beneath his legs. As I did, I lifted with my non-injured shoulder and upended him. He cursed in confusion as I toppled him. Then I was running for the rod.

  The clerk looked at me in a bloody daze. He was aware of what was happening, but he didn’t leave. Maybe he was too hurt, or maybe he too was drunk and didn’t have the faculties to make a wise decision. Or perhaps he was simply frozen in fear. Sometimes, people responded like that, and that wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. Some people fought, some people ran, some people froze. We all had different instincts.

  Whatever the case, I needed him to get out of here. I slid to a stop by him, the box, and the rod. I put a strong hand on his shoulder and gave him a forceful shove.

  “Get out of here, friend, go get help!” I told him.

  That seemed to sober him or snap him out of his panicked stupor, because his eyes focused, and he scrambled to his feet and started running down the alley. I smiled. That was one problem out of the way.

  “I’m gonna kill you, Griff!” roared Thoman as he thundered up behind me, his footsteps heavy. No more time to delay.

  I scooped up the rod, twirled around, and brought the long shaft up in time to block his blow. It fell upon me with such weight and strength that I thought surely the rod would snap in half or at least bend, but it seemed he didn’t have a [Strength] card on him after all.

  I smiled as he looked at me in shock. Surely, he’d know that I had a card. Mine was visible at the moment, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t have any cards, even hidden under his clothes.

  I pushed back against him. Thoman was strong. You needed to be to work the mines as long as he had, but he also drank too much and obviously didn’t take care of himself very well.

  Maybe it was my own very real strength, or maybe it was adrenaline, but I pushed him back easily. I pushed so hard that his arms flew up, and his baton flew away, and he left himself completely open. He was dumfounded, and for a moment, I felt bad for what I was about to do, but I couldn’t hesitate. The other three were already coming at me from behind him, and I had to get him out of the way. The hard way.

  With my new skills, I whipped out with the lower end of the rod and caught him in the gut. That caused him to double over, and in that same motion, I brought the other end of the rod to bear, flicking it up and into his chin. I felt the crunch, the painful jarring jolt as metal met jaw. A tooth went flying. Blood spurted from his mouth, and his head whipped back as he was flung away from me.

  That was one down. Three to go.

  Elryck was enraged by my attack on his friend. He charged me with surprising speed. He was lithe and lean and quick on his feet. I’d seen him take on two men twice his size in a bar fight once, and I didn’t think he had his [Pugilism] card back then. But he had it now.

  As mad as he was, he didn’t allow that to cloud his skill. He launched a barrage of punches and jabs at me. Precise, strong hits, and it was all I could do to block each one with my rod. He winced as his fists met metal, but it didn’t deter him as much as I’d have liked. He kept me busy, and we danced, flesh to metal, fist to rod.

  This allowed the taller goon without any cards to circle around us, and then he jumped at me. Thinking fast, I had to disengage with Elryck. The goon dove at me, full head of steam about him and drunk too. The old Griff might have been knocked on his butt, but now I was quicker, my mind sharper. I dropped to the ground, my knees bending deeper than they had ever bent before, though there was no pain. My back kissed the ground, and my rod was knocked to the side by one of Elryck’s blows.

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  Two things happened at once. The goon, as he dove for me, partially slammed into Elryck, which threw him off balance. The man flew over me as I was on the ground, and Elryck, stunned, came forward too much.

  I, however, had my full faculties, and I was high on my new skill. I erupted out of my flat stance, swinging up with all my strength. Elryck saw this at the last moment and got a forearm up to block me. He did, but my attack was bone breaking. He howled in pain, recoiling. But he wasn’t quick enough. The other end of my rod smashed into his cheek, and he was down for the count.

  Behind you, screamed the voice in my head, and good thing, because I sidestepped at the last instant as the goon stumbled past me. He tripped over Elryck’s unconscious body.

  “Holy crap,” I wheezed. My breaths came heavy and labored, but I still had a lot of fight left in me. I’d been in so many scrapes, and I’d won and lost plenty, but never had I felt so good.

  Two down, two—no, only one to go. Before I could try to finish off the tall goon, his knifey friend did it for me.

  “Useless, Web, useless,” he sneered, and promptly kicked his friend in the temple. The taller goon groaned and then stilled. Poor Web.

  “That wasn’t very gentlemanly of you,” I said.

  Knifey spat another glob of tobacco spit onto the ground. Well, onto Web’s mess of dirty brown curls. “Three blokes and they can’t even take down a stupid little dip spit like you. Pathetic.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’m just too skilled.”

  “Oh, shut your trap.”

  “Make me.”

  What I always found true about the denizens of the uglier, darker side of society is that they were a bit stupid and quick to anger, which made them easy to goad and manipulate. Maybe it wasn’t all their fault. Maybe society failed them in some way, and in that case, I felt bad for them, but that didn’t give them a license to be dirtbags who went around hurting people. So, it was easy to bait him, and he took it wonderfully.

  Difference was, this man was a fighter, and one with good cards. I had my work cut out for me.

  He jabbed at me with his knife, and I blocked it just in time. He was quick, though my new reflexes could keep up. However, the [Strength] card on his hand made the attack a lot more powerful. The blade didn’t pierce my rod or bend it, but the force of it knocked me back.

  He sprung again as I was stumbling back, and I was only just able to dodge. His fist flew past me and slammed into the wooden wall behind me. He punched clean through. Then he was bringing the knife back around, and I deflected it. This time, I was able to use my own momentum to bring the lower end of my rod up to strike him. I didn’t have his strength, but when I caught him in the side, I was sure it still hurt like hell. He staggered back and slammed into the other building hard.

  “Son of a—”

  He launched himself, jumping higher and farther than he should have been able to, which made me think he had cards on his legs. I had to drop and roll away from him because I knew his blow would kill me. And I was right, because when his legs slammed into the ground, the dry rock cracked and cratered underfoot.

  “Shifty little git, ain’tcha?”

  I sucked in air as I rolled into a crouch and held my rod out in front of me. I was prepared for him to launch another attack, but that wasn’t what he did. At least, not with his whole body. Instead, he ran, jumped, spun, and then threw his knife at me. The added strength and speed sent the knife sailing at me like a bullet.

  “Crap!” I cried.

  I managed to dodge, but the knife sliced through my shift and clipped my left shoulder, causing me some pain. Had I been a second slower, it might have annihilated my shoulder.

  That said, the knife had taken all of my effort and focus, and thus, left me wide open. Knifey was on me in an instant, and he tackled me around the waist and drove me to the ground. The breath left me as pain jarred through my bones. I was lucky my head didn’t crack against the ground, but that was a very slim silver lining.

  Before I could even hope to fight back, he wrenched my rod away and tossed it aside and out of reach. Then he punched me in the face. I saw stars; I saw red. I felt red. I tasted blood and felt a loose tooth and the pain was blinding. Literally.

  I was lucky again that he didn’t decide to pummel me into crimson chunks. Instead, he let his arms fall as he straddled me, his sneer so wicked and gleeful, it gave me chills through my pain.

  “Shouldn’t have messed with us, kid,” he said as he took a deep breath.

  He straightened over me and produced a second knife, which shouldn’t have surprised me. I was lucky that he hadn’t pulled out a hammer since he had me beat there with card levels, and I might already be dead if he’d had one.

  Am I about to die? I wondered. It seemed likely. And so unfair that I finally got a card, was ready to head out on my journey, and now I was going to die before ever getting the chance? That was a sick joke.

  “Say goodbye,” he said and raised the knife over his head with both hands. I knew that even if I used both my arms, my strength wouldn’t be able to match his. I still struggled and writhed, trying to throw him free, but it was no use. His legs were a vice grip around me, and his mass was stout and heavy.

  I was done, I knew it.

  Except I wasn’t.

  He never got the chance. Suddenly, a lasso appeared overhead and dropped over his body without his knowing. The second he noticed, the second his brows pinched tight, the lasso drew tight, and he was yanked clear out of his boots. Slamming against the ground with a breathtaking blow, he let out a slew of curses. The man was not one to give up, and somehow managed to maneuver his arms and get his knife under the rope. A normal man without cards might have been stuck, but he leveraged his strength and snapped the rope.

  But it didn’t matter. It was over. Just as he started to struggle to his feet, the distinct sound of several rifles and revolvers being cocked sounded behind him. He was strong and fast, but he couldn’t dodge or out-tough a barrage of bullets.

  “Gaul Fredders, the Rock-Paper-Scissors bandit, you are under arrest,” said a strong and deep voice behind Knifey. Despite my pain. I smiled. I was saved.

  “Says who?” asked Fredders, perplexed and enraged.

  “Says the law, says the people of Parroia, says I, Sheriff Whitman.”

  The calvary had arrived, courtesy of the bloodied clerk and the good honest people of Parroia.