Chapter 17: FAFO

It was near dusk when I pulled up to the student parking area outside the Campus Quad. I chose to bring the truck and was parked so that I could watch as the students left the main campus area onto the large grassy area before the parking lot. There were large groups of people gathered all over the grass and I studied each gathering closely for signs of the troublemakers we had encountered earlier. There was no sign of them but I didn’t feel any better for it. My Spidey senses told me something else entirely.

As if on cue Trinity appeared between the buildings. She was taller than most of the girls around her and many of the guys as well. But what stood her out from the rest was her overall posture and confident stride. Her shoulder-length hair bobbed and swayed around her lime green glasses. She walked as if she hadn’t a care in the world, with her bag slung over her shoulder. But there were several tells in her gait that told me otherwise. She was on high alert.

There were four of them this time and they followed her out of the quad and onto the lawn. No wonder I couldn’t find them. I recognized Carrot Top and the two Jamaicans. The fourth fellow struck me as the most dangerous. He stood even taller than the others and had a great deal more weight on him. His hair stood out at odd angles and his face was covered with a scraggly blonde beard. I rolled down my windows and let the noises of the crowd flow around me. My subconscious began filtering out all the distractions as I analyzed their body language and behaviors. I reached up and touched my rearview activating the dash cam. I touched it again and selected continuous record before turning back to the scene in front of me.

“Trinity!” the heavy-set guy snarled loudly when she was about halfway across the lawn. She stopped and looked over her shoulder before slowly turning around. His sharp voice was noticed by several others and the area between them seemed to magically clear of bodies as she faced them.

“Speaking of bottom-feeders,” she replied with a scorn-filled voice, “Why hello Riley, what brings you out during the day? Cockroaches usually prefer slinking around in the dark.”

“You got quite the mouth on you, ya little bitch!” he spat back, “where the fuck have you been?”

The general buzz seemed to grow still as groups of students stopped their group discussions and turned to face the confrontation. Phones began appearing as some took the initiative to call security or just record the event for notoriety.

They approached within a yard of her and spread out in a semi-circle. I could already tell who she judged as the most imminent to the least concerning threat. She used her left hand to sweep her hair from her face while her other discreetly reached into the side pocket of her bag. “I’ve been getting myself a life,” she replied evenly, “something you would know nothing about.”

Neither of the black guys with the dreadlocks were laughing this time. One picked at his teeth while the other stood with both hands inside the front pocket of his hoody. I casually climbed out of the cab and quietly closed the door before moving to stand in front of my truck.

“Seems to me you need to be taught a lesson about running off on your commitments,” Riley growled at her. “I think I’ve been a bit too lenient with you and it’s time I fixed that.”

“I think that maybe you think too much,” she scoffed back at him, “it’s not good for that tiny little brain of yours.”

“You think you’re a tough little cunt now don’t ya?” he snarled.

“I think you’re about to fuck around and find out,” she replied and let her bag slip from her shoulder as she pulled the collapsible baton from its pocket. Even though she faced her ‘ex’ I could see by her posture that she was preparing to deal with Hoody.

“You better just shut your fucking mouth right now and come with us!” Riley ordered as he stepped forward. She tilted her head as if she were regarding him. The hoody-wearing Rasta raised his hands inside the pocket to reveal a large shiny automatic pistol tucked into the front of his pants.

‘That’s it,’ I decided and stepped forward onto the sidewalk.

Trinity expected the move by her reaction. He was her first choice of potential threats and she neutralized him with the most efficient means at hand. She thrust her bag at him causing him to try and free his hands to catch it. Before they were even cleared of his pocket she twisted the black rod in her hand, snapping it open so that the tip sprang right into the face of the second Jamaican dude, striking him just below his nose with a loud crack. She followed up by hooking his legs with the rod and jerking them out from beneath him.

She moved so fast that I barely saw her spin back toward the hoody-wearing dude. She switched the baton to her left hand as she whirled and plunged the tip up into the soft flesh of his throat, driving it up under his chin, and snapping his head back. With her free right hand, she reached into his pants to grab the gun. I half expected her to pull it free and begin shooting them or something. But she didn’t.

The report of the .45 was like an explosion that sent the gathered crowd into a panic. Screams suddenly began sounding out as students fled in every direction. Ironically the sudden outcry drowned out the Jamaican’s scream as the gun went off in his pants. I was stunned as I watched him fall backward onto the grass grabbing for his crotch.

Oh fuck! No, she didn’t just ... But she had already moved on.

While the second Rasta boy was crying and holding his face, Trinity turned her attention to Elvis who stood gazing at her with an expression lacking any comprehension. She spared him the rod but swept his feet from under him sending him down hard on his back. His breath exploded from his lungs leaving him wheezing desperately for air.

Riley came to his senses just as she rounded on him. He jumped at her with his fists swinging. One of them made contact with her face, grazing her cheek as she turned with it. It almost appeared as if he were trying to hug her like some overbearing ogre. Rather than accept his hug she looped her baton inside his other arm while she ducked beneath it and spun about. Just like that she trapped his limb with a painful fulcrum and launched him ass over teakettle to the ground at her feet. Rather than release him she continued twisting her body until his trapped arm was twisted firmly behind his back. He screamed in agony as she dropped a knee down between his shoulder blades.

“Who’s the bitch now?” she spat at him contemptuously. He continued screaming and begging her to release him. Instead, she levered the rod further back causing his shoulder to dislocate with an awfully sounding crunch. His screams of agony turned into an ear-splitting shriek as she released his arm and shoved herself off of him.

I walked up to them slowly, shaking my head at the carnage before me. Sirens could be heard approaching and I saw a Campus Security car pull up nearby. “EVERYBODY ... UH FREEZE!” yelled the guard over his PA system, “STAY WHERE YOU ARE!”

“Nice of you to fucking show up!” Trinity yelled back at him, collapsing her baton by shoving it into the ground and locking it closed. She turned to me and buried her face in my chest with her arms hanging down. “Damn, kiddo! You didn’t even give me a chance to help you out,” I murmured. She just shook her head like she was itching it against my shirt.