Chapter 1: Flight and Warriors

If you plan on being anything less than you are capable of being, you will probably be unhappy all the days of your life.
{r}Abraham Maslow

It is said the warrior’s is the twofold Way of pen and sword, and he should have a taste for both Ways. Even if a man has no natural ability he can be a warrior by sticking assiduously to both divisions of the Way.

Miyamoto Musashi

My former boyfriend, Justin, had tied me up and had his friends do a bukkake, he expected me to stop being afraid of sperm. Instead, I showered, dressed, and looked at him sadly. “Out of my life and out of my apartment.” I lived in an apartment-dorm in the general area of the university. George Washington University doesn’t have a true campus. Most of it is a concentration of buildings, on ordinary streets, west and south of the White House in Washington.

While it was my shared apartment, it was where Justin had sex with me, and then used me for his friends. I had to get out for a while, and headed for the street. I wasn’t in a panic. If anything, I was numbed. I was a little surprised by my lack of emotions, and my feeling of being in a daze. It was almost as if I was watching someone else go through this.

As I looked around for someplace to calm down, I got really scared. Justin had had around twenty guys jerk off onto my body. He did keep them from doing more. Down the sidewalk, however, were some of those guys, drinking. Their laughs and expressions told me they wanted to be a lot rougher, and they were coming for me. I screamed and started to run away, but several of the men started chasing me. “No! Get away!”

Gaining a friend

A little ahead of me was a building shared by the Physical Education and Theater & Dance departments. Two women were coming out of the main door, and looked up when they saw shouts. The taller of the two looked like an athlete, with lots of red-brown hair on top of her head, and, and wearing a T-shirt and shorts that showed a hell a lot of muscle. Very feminine muscle, but I had a sense that Justin wouldn’t come out on top if he tried to force her to do something. Aside from a rolling suitcase, she carried a case around something long and narrow.

Her companion carried a similar case. That woman was shorter, but also conveyed power in her movements. She was darker, with waist-length gleaming hair. As stressed as I was, I saw it was waist-length, blue-black, and shone in the sun. The short woman wasn’t fat, but I got a sense that she’d be like a rock if someone tried to force her down.

“Back off!” yelled the tall one. The other one looked at me and said, “get behind us.” The two women looked at one another, and dropped everything but the cases. I’m no martial artist, but they took up stances that looked ready for anything.

In a mocking falsetto, several of the men repeated “Back off! Oh yeah. I’m so scared.” The two that I guessed were athletes shook their heads, clicked open their cases, and pulled out fucking swords and little shields. They looked like they were out of a movie. The shorter one called out, “Go ahead. Make my day.”

The tall one, in precise diction, said “Your last warning. We took the swords out of two-sword cases. The practice and sport sword is still in there.”

When the men continued to advance, the short one said something to the taller woman. They went into a stance, the shield extended at arm’s length, and the swords pointed forward, but back with their elbows near their hips. Their legs were spread, which, with the lower center of gravity of a woman, made them look very, very solid.

In step with one another, they moved with a stomp of one foot, and sort of dragged the other foot. I vaguely remembered seeing riot cops move something like that. Perhaps having watched the same thing, a few in the back decided they needed to be elsewhere.

One of the drunks decided to rush at the tall woman, who lunged forward and hit him in the forehead with the buckler. He dropped, limp, to the ground. Another rushed the other woman, on the side away from her shield. Her sword moved forward, not in a full thrust, but far enough that she used the apparently sharp point to slash across his knee. Blood spurted, and he went down screaming.

From the middle of the group, one guy pushed his way to the front, with an evil laugh. He had enough bling around his neck to look like Mr. T, and whipped out a knife. Now, I’m no weapons expert, but I could figure out that bringing a knife to a sword fight probably wasn’t a good idea. The two made quick and precise passes at his necklaces, cutting a few with their points. The idiot roared, rushed forward, and stumbled back, bleeding from both shoulders.

The women stopped and extended their shields. “Who’s next?” called out the short, longhaired one. A couple of more men suddenly sobered and ran. A guard, from the credit union across the street, drew his gun, turned his head into the entrance and yelled something, then called out “Freeze!” I guessed that he told them to call police, for a cop car came screaming in a minute, followed by others. As the first police jumped out, drawing their weapons, the two women snapped their swords down, points touching the ground.

Slowly enough not to freak out the police, I moved to my two saviors. I realized that tears were running down my face. “Thank you thank you thank you ... officers, they saved me!”

At least six cops were there. “Put down the swords!” They quickly complied, putting them on the sidewalk. The sides clarified, when one of the drunks took a swing at a policeman, and was slammed to the ground and cuffed.

A couple of police supervisors pulled up. The tall woman called out, “Lieutenant, we have weapons licenses. May we pull them out? We were coming out of the fencing club and saw these guys chasing the woman behind us. The two on the ground attacked us.”

The female sergeant gave an evil laugh. “Never bring a knife to a sword fight, is that what you’re trying to tell me?” My rescuers relaxed a little. The sergeant looked at the bleeding guy, laughed, and called “Goldilocks!” The gold-covered one started to complain, and then groaned. “How nice to meet you like this. A knife gives us probable cause for a search. And what drugs are you carrying today?” He snarled.

“Or a beer bottle, for that matter, like these jerks.” The sergeant came over and took our information. I explained that I was a witness to the attack, saying only that I was running away from a party that got too rough, and these guys followed from there. I didn’t know the law, but since I hadn’t been penetrated, and I had showered off the sperm, I guessed there was nothing the cops could do to them. I did get the shakes, though, and the women pulled me close. My back literally was shielded as the cops got our names. The tall woman was Cathy Winter, and the short one was Shelley Evers. Did I not introduce myself? I’m Candace Rose.

After a few minutes, the sergeant said, “I think we’ve got what we need right away. The detectives will need to talk. This looks clear to me, although the detectives will need to talk to you. Miss Evers, Miss Winter, could you help get Miss Rose to relax, and maybe take her to a safe place?”

“Will do, Sergeant. Candace, there’s a coffee shop across the street, with some private booths. How about we take you there for a while, and then go to our place? We’re in an office-theater-apartment complex not far away. It has a medical clinic, and we can probably get you seen immediately. The staff are very, very well qualified for dealing with the kind of trauma you may have had ... well, not sword fights.”

“Thanks. My legs are a little wobbly.”

Shelley smiled. “I’m a little wobbly too. I do have to deal with grabby guys all too often, but not with swords. Let’s support each other across the street.”

Gaining a friend

My mother, I have to admit, was right about one thing. When things were bleak, she’d say, “Candace, a big mug of sweet milky tea can make things feel a little better. We went into the shop, happy that it had table service.

“Again to both of you, Damn, my former boyfriend, Justin, could make me feel fine. Yesterday, I learned he wasn’t worth the price -- or maybe I wasn’t enough of a woman to deserve him. The mob today were his friends, which says something about him.

“Now what about you two? How do I address ... umm ... female knights? I, Lady Candace, would never confuse you with a male knight.” For the first time since Justin, I giggled a little. “Swords, though?”

“Don’t want to be too obvious about it, but we both fence, and do some reenactment. I’ve started teaching a bit. We were just doing a demonstration, which is why we had edged, pointed swords with us.” Fencing explained her sweaty, rumpled look, but I also realized that she was very pretty. With makeup, nice clothes, and her hair brushed out, she would never, never, be confused with a man.

“Maybe I could have used you not long ago.”

“Oh?”

“My boyfriend ... I guess my ex-boyfriend ... is stronger than I am.”

Cathy looked at me sharply, her eyes intense. “Honey, were you forced to do something sexually? First, you’re safe right now. I don’t need to go anywhere right now, and if you feel afraid of some guy, look at me. Look at me hard. I’m also a nationally rated wrestler, and am studying judo. Shelley is a specialized art and military historian, with some real-world experience with African and Arab hand weapons. She was born in North Africa.

I relaxed. “Oh! I’m also studying art history. While it’s not quite a minor in zoology, one of my interests is scary life in art, such as snakes and spiders. In the real world, I kind of like snakes. I wouldn’t insult reptiles by referring to any of the recent crowd as snakes.”

“Shelley and I are both dancers, and by that, I mean in some raunchy places. Recently, we’ve moved into something great that takes advantage of that experience. No, it’s not a cult. Anyway, what’s going on? Did something happen with someone you knew and trusted?”

I nodded.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, just my pride. I wasn’t exactly raped, but what happened sure wasn’t my idea. Maybe he was right, and I am compulsive and really shouldn’t be having sex.”

“Honey, it’s always your choice. You don’t owe it to him. Now, just about anything goes if it’s truly consensual. I’ve got both male and female friends, gay and straight, who like being tied up, when everyone agreed to the rules. I think I see some redness on your wrists. Were you tied up but didn’t agree to it?” I nodded. “Then as far as I’m concerned, you were raped.”