Chapter 433: Mandy Handy

So, what sorts of powers did I get with the federal stuff that kicked in when I turned eighteen?

“I don’t know who you are yet, Mr. Jones, but I have no choice but to trust you. I ask for the same in return,” the cop told me.

“Deal,” I replied. “Your partner is a twitchy ass.”

The guy smiled and said, “Unofficially, on that, we agree. He shit in his pants when you plucked out the barbs like they were mosquitos. Officially, I’m not about to even try to piss off someone that moves as quickly as you.”

“He is a big sum bitch too,” the paramedic replied.

When we got to the hospital, the cop handed me back my ID before going into the ER with Mandy. Dumb jock one arrived in the room next door.

“Get him to x-ray, stat. We need to know what we are dealing with here,” the doctor replied.

I stepped out into the hall, walked up to the doctor, and said, “You are dealing with two shoulders forced from the socket by muscle-weakening strikes. This technique permits the proper movements required to release the tendon tension momentarily and allow for dislocation without damage. I was not going to permit him to hit his ex-girlfriend another time. I wanted no possibility that he could lay his hands on her. To save you hours of diagnosis, I used techniques from an ancient form of martial arts to ensure that those convicted of heinous crimes need not get imprisoned, for it forced the muscles in the legs to weaken in a way that appears as if they have atrophied. As large as he is, he will require months of physical therapy to restrengthen his legs enough to be able to stand unsupported for a few seconds.”

“Looks like I need to go,” I said as people were rushing Mandy to radiology too. “That is his ex-girlfriend. I will leave it to you if you would like me to reset his shoulders, or you choose to do it.”

The doctor stopped Mandy’s hospital bed, looked at her, now very swollen faces, ribs, where that asshole stomped on her leg, and then the footprint on her stomach. Mandy was conscious, but the adrenaline had worn off, and she was starting to be in pain. With the doctor watching me, I did a few quick pinches on her neck just below the base of Mandy’s skull to block the pain from her body from getting to her brain.

I told everyone that it worked similarly to acupuncture to block pain for a short time. They had around thirty minutes before it came back to hit her like a freight train. It should be enough time to get all the CT, MRI, and x-rays done if they could get her in immediately.

Being a children’s hospital, anyone with possible brain injuries went to the head of the line.

The asshole’s dad and little sister were there with the asshole, waiting for him to go in to get x-rays.

Instead of realizing he got his ass kicked, dickhead yelled, “I am going to fucking find you and kill you, motherfucker. There is nowhere you can hide that I won’t find you.”

I got a piece of paper, put down my home address and cell phone number. I tucked it in the waistband of his briefs and said, “There. I will save you the trouble of figuring out how to turn on a computer and do a search. You are welcome to come by anytime and give it a shot. I must be honest, though. I don’t think you have a chance in hell. Mercenaries paid around ten million dollars each gave it their best shot, with armor-piercing sniper ammo, to keep me from following the asshole who kidnapped my daughter on Christmas Day. But while you plan your revenge, ask your sister to show you the video from that competition that she attended where the winner gave the man he defeated the grand prize, a priceless sword.”

They aren’t going to let me into the MRI with Mandy, so I might as well at least use this as a teaching moment.

I then went to his dad and said, “It is going to be a bit of a wait for us both. Can you let me take your daughter over to the far side of this waiting room to teach her a few things to help her win her match tomorrow? I feel bad that she is missing her sparring practice right now.”

“Are you serious?” her dad asked. “Why would you do anything for us after what my son pulled.”

“Yes, I am serious. As I said, it isn’t your daughter’s fault that your son decided to punch his ex-girlfriend because she decided she didn’t want any more of his shit. I want to show your son a fraction of the pain Mandy will feel from his punch to her face. You better hope that he didn’t break her cheekbone or cause her to fracture her skull when her head hit the wall,” I replied. “It looked like he put all his weight behind it. I don’t know how much power he got into the punch to her chest, kick to her stomach, or when he stomped her leg.”

Dickhead’s dad’s eyes went wide when he heard that, and I reached for dickhead sister’s hand while her dad called his lawyer.

I asked the girl if she was comfortable enough with her body to take off her t-shirt so it didn’t get in the way. She moved quickly and had it folded on the table behind her.

“I remember seeing your sparring, and you need a better sensei or a new dojo. The dojo taught you multiple things wrong. Plus, I saw you had the muscle memory to correctly do all those attacks and blocks because they are part of the smaller, less complicated movements you learned back when you started practicing martial arts. Let me show you an example, but I have to get in very close behind you. My hands will be touching you between the legs and on your chest, as well as less arousing places. I can’t show you without needing to make that contact, but it isn’t sexual,” I told the girl.

She leaned in close to say, “As long as you can keep me from falling when it makes me cum, that works for me. I’ve never been wetter any time in my life since I saw you take down my brother after hurting Mandy. She is such a sweet person.”

I told her to show me a specific move and count it out as she did at the dojo, with everyone else having the same color belt. I did that for the others I had seen her having issues with at the competition.

What I see here isn’t something accidental at all. There are extra steps added to these moves to cause them to be blocked and open for a powerful counter.

“One-Two-Three-Five-Seven-Ten,” I said, going through the correct movements with her on one of the more powerful of her attacks at her current rank.

We did that one ten times and moved to the second.

I can feel that they are doing every inch of Mandy in the MRI, and someone did give her some pain medicine in the IV with the different contrasts.

Two hours later, they were wheeling Mandy back to the ER.

“Looks like I need to go,” I told dickhead’s sister. “You learned how to fix those moves very quickly. You have a lot of natural talent. Don’t stop learning martial arts. I expect to see you going very far, very fast.”

She hugged me and whispered in my ear, “I only came once. I can’t believe it. Your hands touched my pussy and tits felt great, but once I focused on what you were teaching me, I didn’t notice anymore. I still want to fuck you, but I know that would get you sent to jail because my dad would jump all over that. It wouldn’t have to do with my brother at all, but him protecting his daughter, even if it was my idea.”

“You need to take her to a new dojo. Her sensei is unquestionably teaching her and the other students incorrectly. Once I get back upstairs with Mandy, I will text you both some suggestions. If you aren’t afraid to go down the narrow alley, on the north-east side of town in the Asian section, behind the Tai buffet, go through the green door at the very end. There you will find monks from multiple areas of China who will take your daughter as a student, free of charge, once they see the raw natural talent I see inside her,” I explained.

I then swatted the girl’s butt, told her she had forgotten her t-shirt and that if I could, I would try to get to her match tomorrow. I might even try to compete, depending on how Mandy is doing.

I got a big hug in return.

Well, after she got her t-shirt because she realized that her sweat had soaked her white bra, yellow yoga pants, and pale-yellow panties. Everyone could see everything as if she was standing there naked.

Everyone right now was her mom, dad, and me.

I got back up to Mandy’s ER room as a man and woman hurried in.

“Who are you?” they asked me. “Why is the hospital letting you in here with our daughter, especially when she is fully exposed while they are examining her.”

I held out my hand, “Hi. I’m David. An adult needed to be here with Mandy because someone had to be here with her since you couldn’t rush down here immediately. As for seeing her naked, I have seen more of everything she has, in person from only inches away than a practice full of gynecologists.”

“STOP IT,” Mandy yelled at her parents. “If David hadn’t stopped that Orwin, I might be dead.”

As her dad started to open his mouth, a group of doctors and nurses rushed in, with the ER doctor saying, “Your daughter isn’t exaggerating. If not for this man close behind her, she would have a skull fracture, broken cheekbone and likely have lost that eye. I expect she would have had a punctured lung as well. Instead, she has three cracked ribs and a black eye. An inch lower and where her attacker stomped on her leg would have caused a compound fracture. It would be hit or miss if she bled out before they could get the tourniquet on her leg to stop the bleeding. Either way, she would have lost the leg.”

“Here is your card back, Mr. Jones. We will ensure you get emailed the detailed list of all charges for today’s visit,” a woman from billing said as she gave me the card made from gold.

The doctor asked us to come out into the hall and then told Mandy’s parents, “If this young man hadn’t said that he was covering whatever it cost to go over every inch, inside and out of your daughter’s body, we would have missed things. Your insurance denied all but one x-ray of each area and refused to authorize anything other than the most basic blood tests. The MRI found the source of her abdominal pain she didn’t tell you she had for a while. We found a cyst on the outside of her ovary. We need to take her into emergency surgery to remove it because the blow to her abdomen did cause it to twist in a way that is now at risk of cutting off blood flow to that ovary. David, here, already signed all the release forms when she arrived in case we found any internal bleeding. The nurse is explaining it to her, and she will be heading in momentarily. It won’t take very long. They will go in through a tiny incision down inside her belly button, so there won’t be any visible scarring. We aren’t sure about her appendix, which was in the area where she got kicked, but they will remove it as a preventative measure. It is a proprietary procedure.”

“Dr. Phil,” an android surgeon said, walking up to us. “Yes, folks. His name is Phil, and he is a doctor. The procedure is not proprietary. It isn’t something we have chosen to offer to train surgeons outside of our practice.”

To Mandy’s parents, the surgeon said, “The appendix is too large to remove laparoscopically. If your daughter were in her mid-twenties, she would have a nice appendix scar hidden away in her pubic hair like so many others. Because she is having the cyst removed from her ovary, we will be in there already. We have a technique where we insert additional surgical tools rectally. It will permit us to remove it that way. Besides keeping her from the appendix scar, our process will let her go home tomorrow afternoon or early evening. A few days of milkshakes, yogurt, and soft foods will be all she needs to keep from worrying about anything that could cause dissolvable sutures to come out prematurely.”

They wheeled Mandy out to surgery. As we went to the waiting room, since the hospital admitted Mandy, we passed Orwin being brought back to his room. I let the two fathers and mothers face off against each other in the hallway. Orwin’s little sister pulled my hand to go into Orwin’s ER room.

When the nurse took his stats and left, I watched Orwin’s eyes go wide as his sister moved over to his head. He begged and pleaded for her not to do something, but she wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to see his dick, but his sister appeared to be an expert at making him get hard, even in all his pain.

“Hey, mom,” the girl said to get her mom and dad in here. “I thought Orwin was a big man on the football team, but it seems he comes up short. That boy they brought in right before we left goes to my school, is my age. They didn’t have his dick covered up because of all the stuff on his legs. Even with only a few dark hairs, his dick was at least five inches soft and fatter than Orwin’s little offering. As many times I saw him jacking off, I thought that his dick was big. No wonder Mandy never complained about him taking her virginity. It also explained all the girls saying their big sisters let him think they were deep-throating him when they barely him in their mouth.”

Her mom got furious and said, “That is not acceptable to talk that way about your brother. You know that he wasn’t born without testicles. Give him a break already. Three inches is all most women need anyway. That is all your dad has.”

Before it evolved into something more of an argument, the doctor said, “David, I’ve consulted seven colleagues across the U.S. about this patient, and four of them asked me what my patient did to piss off David Jones. I didn’t tell them the source of the dislocations. All four said that having both arms look like they were pulled from their sockets as if they were to Legos that someone pulled apart, without any muscle or ligament damage, had to have been done by you. They said I should let you reset his shoulders, but with him sedated to keep from using those arms to attack anyone.”

Orwin’s resumed threats of bodily harm and death found him sedated.