Mr. Jay’s limousine, Oxford
T he Red pulls me out of the window. I find myself floating in the air, clinging to his wrist, baffled by the way he is balancing himself atop the limousine like a surfing master.
“Take her to Mr. Jay and make sure to evade the Pillar,” the woman demands from the limousine below.
The Red doesn’t answer her, and pulls me farther up, jumping over the car, down onto the pavement of whatever city I’m in now.
Now safe, I kick the Red, aiming for his groin, but miss due to his seamless maneuver with his waist. He swivels me as if in a dance, and we end up chest to chest. I try kicking with my knees, but his grip on my waist never falters.
“Let go of me,” I scream like a little girl, which I don’t like at all. “Don’t you know who I am? I am Alice Wonder, Mary Ann, Black Chess’s most precious.”
The Red still doesn’t speak, and I can’t see his face under the hood.
“Is that you, Pillar?” I squint.
No response.
It’s not the Pillar. He didn’t come to save me like the woman suggested. It seems like Black Chess sent their best Red this time, making sure I end up meeting Mr. Jay.
Tons of police cars suddenly arrive. They stop before us, wheels screeching, doors opening, and someone is shouting in the speakers.
“Drop your gun!” A chubby police officer jumps out of the car, pointing his gun at the Red.
But, of course, the man gripping me neither flinches nor responds.
“Drop your gun or I will shoot!”
“He doesn’t have a gun!” My voice is barely louder than a whisper as the Red’s tight hands are pressed on my chest. “Just arrest him.”
“I can’t arrest him unless he chooses not to drop his gun,” the chubby police officer says.
“Didn’t you just hear me?” I snap. “He doesn’t have a gun.”
“Then we can’t arrest him,” the officer says. “We only arrest criminals who refuse to drop their guns.”
I roll my eyes, confused. “But it’s your responsibility to save me.”
“Is it?” He scratches his head.
I squint against the ridiculousness of his question. “Of course it is. He is kidnapping me!”
“He is?” He tilts his head toward his fellow officer, a lanky young man. “Does that man in the red robe look like he is kidnapping this lady?”
The lanky officer holds on to his belt instead of his gun so his trousers won’t slip down. “Hmm,” he says. “They could as well be embracing. I mean, they’re standing chest to chest. The man in the red robe seems fond of her.”
“Lovers, you think?” the chubby officer asks.
I am still not registering the stupidity of the conversation.
“Must be lovers,” the lanky officer says. “Is it Valentine’s Day yet?”
“It’s not bloody Valentine’s Day, you fool,” the chubby one says. “They must be shooting a movie.”
“What the heck are you talking about?” I shout. “This man just kidnapped me from the limo behind me.”
“I don’t have proof of this. I’m sorry,” the chubby officer says. “I mean, I’m not sure he is kidnapping you.” He lowers his gun. “I’m not even sure why I am here.” He turns and asks his men, “Does anyone know why we’re here?”
“You told us to follow you here,” an officer responds.
“Hmm.” The chubby officer turns and faces me, then rubs his chin. “I seem to have forgotten.”
“It’s really puzzling.” The lanky one nods. “It’s almost like a movie scene. Something wrong happens and the police arrive on the spot.”
“I’ve never understood that.” The chubby one turns and converses with his friend. “I mean really, who calls the police in those movies? The director of the movie?”
“Are you out of your mind?” I shout, unable to fathom the situation.
“Gotcha!” The lanky one pulls his trousers up to his chest, then snickers.
“She really took the bait.” The chubby one laughs at me.
“What the heck is going on?” I ask.
Out of nowhere, tens of Reds jump out of the cars. Next to them, the police officers take off their uniforms, revealing Reds robes underneath.
“That was fun, wasn’t it?” The chubby man jumps up and high-fives the lanky one, who drops his trousers but catches them halfway down. “Give her to us,” he says to the silent Red gripping me. “You’ve done a good job and we’ve had some fun. Mr. Jay is waiting for her.”
Feeling humiliated, I assume the Red behind me is going to hand me to them. But instead, still, just as silent, he pulls out a sword and flashes it toward them, chopping off their heads one by one.
At first, he does it while he is still gripping me with the other hand. It’s like a dance of death. A ballet of incomprehensible killing techniques. The Red is a master who is killing his own people with a fluency I have never seen before. I glimpse a couple of None Fu techniques among his plethora of unbelievable moves.
But before I witness the end of the massacre, I bump my head on the back of his sword and fall unconscious, not knowing what the hell just happened.