Rating Mature
Gynock and his wife Destinee had a long history which didn’t come into play much during the game, but the original history the player had given me was rich. The obsession Moonblossom had laid upon him could only change his emotions, not his past. A past with a wife who was much more dangerous than he.
Part 3 starts with a window into their past, a flashback. When Gynock remembers the last time he saw his wife’s eyes turn into black murder.
She had been eight months preggers and he wasn’t getting any. At barely nineteen, this was the end of the world. He was passionately in love with Destinee, but she wouldn’t marry him, wasn’t interested in doing the deed and he was pretty sure she was going to cut out the moment she popped. His ex-comrade in-arms hated being clumsy, hated not being able to breathe, hated being stuck in one place and she was taking it all out on the cause of her discomfort, him.
And this pretty blond co-ed asked for extra lessons at his dojo. When the student locked lips with him, he just let his second brain do the thinking. They were in a compromising, but not too compromising position when Destinee had waddled into the dojo from the office where she worked as his secretary and was sleeping because it was too hard to walk up the steps to their flat. The only bathroom on this floor was in the foyer.
Her eyes flared black. The only time he had seen that look before, she had killed five men so fast he hadn’t even seen it happen. He was worried, but the girl didn’t know better and had all the confidence of someone new to the martial arts. “Oh, hi.” She purred.
“What do you think you are doing?” came the clipped, emotionless reply. It was as though death was talking.
“I’m getting private lessons.” And the undergrad stretched up from where they had fallen.
“Oh really, let’s see how it’s coming.” And motioned the girl to stand.
Gynock had stood hastily and tried to intercede. But before half a syllable had passed through his lips, the woman carrying his baby interrupted. “You’re next. Stand there.” And she pointed. After a half a lifetime with her as the Sensei, he obeyed automatically. He had been very young.
Then the graceless, short ball of human flesh proceeded to show the tall, lithe beauty just how little a yellow belt knows. Destinee limited all the moves she made to the martial form he had been teaching, which made the fight that more pitiful to watch, knowing the breadth of action the expert was capable of. Gynock felt very sorry for his student, but also felt pride in his woman. The girl didn’t have a single mark on her at the end of the bout, but would be aching for days. In the end, Destinee had the child in a submission hold. “Yes, I can see you need more lessons. I expect you back when we reopen next week.” She said in her third deadliest voice. The girl gulped and nodded quickly, getting the message.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes.” came the forceful whisper.
“Yes, Sensei.”
“Yes, Sensei.” came the voice stronger but shakier. Destinee let go the wrist and hand and the co-ed ran fled.
The girl did return, most likely terrified not to. Before she graduated from the local college, she had a first-degree black belt. Destinee participated in all of the girl’s classes, and even kept her for private lessons.
Facing the swinging door instead of the back of the room where he was located, Destinee said “Your turn.” The voice was now in its second deadliest mode.
Maybe he would have had a better showing if he hadn’t been trying to avoid damaging the fetus.
When Destinee checked him in the emergency room, she described each of his “suspected” injures with great confidence. That when he knew she had chosen every move she had used on him; he still had a lot to learn. Everything was healed by the time his daughter was born, but just barely.
He had had to get home from the hospital on his own. As his ribs were being taped, Destinee said she needed to finish working off steam and left. Four days later when his dislocated shoulder had healed enough for him to reopen the dojo, she had returned.
Looking angry and scared at the same time, she stated. “I am ready to get married.”
“Why?” he blurted out before he could stop it. He had been asked for a wedding ever since he discovered that she was pregnant. Master Damien had taught him to be honorable and take responsibility. She had been totally against it.
She shrugged, but it was more staged than nonchalant, and said “I find that I don’t want to lose you.” Not exactly a declaration of love, that didn’t come until years later, but close from someone who wanted no ties. They were wed before nightfall.
He never was officially told where she had gone to work off steam, but, according to the newspaper, the drug dealers in Houston had a short war during those same four days. Just over a score, in singles and pairs, had been alternately shot, sliced and beaten to death. Twenty-three men in their prime stalked by one pregnant woman who could barely walk. They never had a chance.
***
And now she was leaping at him, black eyed again. He instinctually summoned a shadow cloud and sidestepped, dropping into obscurity. She twisted in midair and hit him low across the knees unbalancing him. The swords kept his back from flexing properly to take the blow and remain standing so he fell hard to the ground. The hellcat and him tumbled a bit, until he actually got her in a hold that she couldn’t break. It was the first time ever that he had won a sparring match and not felt she had gone easy on him. For a long time, he had had an advantage with size and strength, but her dexterity and real-world experience made her slightly better. The ring had changed that equation. His eyes slowly moved their way down from the dangerous hands he just captured, stopping a moment at the small tattoo of a dagger she had on the inside of her left arm just below the bend of the elbow and coming to rest on the ebony eyes.
He took the prize they normally exchanged at the end of a match, and leaned down to kiss her. That shifted his grip enough that she freed herself, and the battle was restarted only with a new tension.
After exhausting himself and her, he dropped the useless shadows. Then it hit him, how he betrayed the goddess with this vixen. Pushing the wench off of him, he rolled over and vomited. As the few contents of his stomach traveled back up the route that they had entered his body, he started prayfully apologizing under his breath for this betrayal.
Destinee forcibly rolled him back, her eyes now filled with concern, not anger. “What’s wrong?”
“You raped me and I didn’t stop you.” He muttered, ashamed at his weakness.
She jerked back as though he slapped her. “You were enjoying it as much as I a moment ago.”
“No, …. maybe,” he said, “brainwashing from when I was a kid.”
She looked at him a little longer, horror, anger and caring all dancing across her face. “Right.” With that she grabbed his coat from the floor, and headed out the door putting her bare arms into the too-long sleeves. The tails and chain dragged on the floor behind her. Knowing how quickly she moved once she made a decision, and fearful for his love’s life, he grabbed his pants and followed her through the progressively brighter areas. Fortunately the residential quarters were all at reduced night lighting.
He caught up with her shorter legs when she arrived at the Pit, the great open area where the secretarial pool was located. Corridors sprayed out around the room leading to the different units. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Advancing on the door that was located just behind her work desk, she answered “I am going to find out what that witch did to you.” Since she wasn’t continuing to the prisoner area, he relaxed a little.
“How?” he asked.
“Research, idiot” came the angry words. And she sat in Ethan’s chair and started warming up his computer. As a precaution he entered the room with her, in case she decided to have a more direct approach later. He had to protect his love, but wasn’t certain even after that last battle if he could take the trained assassin. After all she hadn’t tried any killing moves on him, she still was holding back. He sat in the chair he had been debriefed in a few hours before and put on his jeans. “You too,” she ordered, “Get your portable and pull everything we have on that Thing.”
(words 1,441; first published 7/12/2020)
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