AS I BOLTED through the outer office door, I saw Coco running down the hallway. She took the exit stairs. I was right behind her. I could hear her laughing as we ran up several flights of stairs.
“Having fun yet, Phoenix?” Coco’s voice echoed in the stairwell.
Severe pain shot through my jaw as I ran up flight after flight. I finally made it to the roof. Apparently, she wanted the battle to take place there. Opening the door cautiously, I saw Coco Nimburu waiting for me. I stepped onto the roof and caught my breath.
“You know they were going to kill you, don’t you?” Coco asked calmly. She was wearing a black ninja uniform. “You owe me your life.”
“You sure you wanna do this?” I asked her. Strangely, the pain in my jaw seemed to have lessened. I sharpened my focus and was ready for anything.
“I didn’t spare your life for nothing,” Coco said grimly. Her sense of humor was gone. “Weapons?” She opened a black case with red velvet interior, which contained swords, shuriken, and other weapons in it.
I shook my head and walked to within five feet of her. “Is there anything else I should know?” I asked.
“Your family’s at home and safe,” Coco assured me. “You’ll be getting a package soon.”
“A package?” I asked, as we bowed to each other. As we circled each other, we talked to each other like old school chums, yet we were about to engage in hand-to-hand combat to the death. Unlike in the movies, a martial art challenge does not take long. A real life duel never does.
“You’ll understand when you get it,” Coco said. “Use your best judgment, my sister.”
With lightning speed, Coco kicked at my head. I was light on my feet, which enabled me to avoid the powerful blow. Moving forward, I began with a token lead kick designed to distract her. It was quick and powerful, but token nevertheless. She blocked it with ease just as I knew she would, but left herself open for a perfectly timed reverse hook kick to the head. The blow dazed her long enough for me to follow up with three rapid roundhouse kicks to her head. Coco fell to the ground and shook the cobwebs away.
“I can’t believe I fell for that weak kick,” Coco said and stood to her feet. Before I knew it, she was on the offensive, throwing kicks and strikes from every direction. I blocked them all, but she was able to set me up with a token strike, too. She back-fisted me, then spun around and kicked me in the head. I fell to the ground.
I got up quickly and riposted. Coco was a master martial artist, too. With the exception of being blindsided in the bar I had just left, no one had knocked me down since I had left the tutelage of Ying Ming Lo—at least when I was ready. The guy in the bar had gotten lucky. Back on my toes, I was moving with purpose again, determined to whittle down her defense first, and then destroy her.
Suddenly, I sensed a hostile presence other than Coco on the roof, and I thought I knew who it was. What was he waiting for? I wondered. Why was he lurking in the shadows?
We engaged in a series of attacks. After each series, I kicked Coco in the leg. Nothing powerful but enough to hurt and distract. We engaged again, and I briefly looked at the leg I had kicked before initiating my attack. She thought I was going to kick her there again. Instead, I feinted with my left leg. When she attempted to block it, she was wide open. I kicked her hard with the right. She was hurt, and I moved in, throwing a leftrightleft combination and finishing with a powerful kick to the head that put Coco on her ass again.
Coco stood to her feet, but staggered a little. Still dazed, she grabbed a sword from the black case and came after me with it. She wasn’t ready to die after all, I thought. I did several reverse somersaults to get away from her. She came after me, swinging the sharp blade. I was near the edge of the roof with nowhere to go but down. Coco pointed the sword at me and said, “I guess you weren’t good enough after all. Tell God I said hello and I’ll see him later.”
She drew the sword back to swing it like a baseball bat. The sight of someone swinging a sword at them would have paralyzed most people. But I knew it was my only chance to escape. Just before she brought the blade forward, I quickly moved forward and kicked her in the head. Then I somersaulted over to the weapons case.
I grabbed a sword to defend myself. I wanted to grab a shuriken or two to throw at the presence I felt once I dispensed with Coco, but I didn’t have time. She was coming after me again. We engaged in a series of thrusts and parries. The sound of the blades colliding was loud—sparks flew. I stayed on the offensive, looking for the one opening that would give me an opportunity to end the battle.
We engaged again. This time I kicked her in the right leg again. Each time I kicked her, she grew angrier. Just as my anger had dulled my senses and led to a broken jaw, her anger would hasten her death. I was sure Coco was not aware of the presence on the roof. Otherwise, she would have tried to kill the intruder, I thought.
My constant kicks to her leg reduced her mobility. She was limping a little, but still dangerous. We engaged again, and I feinted at the now-injured leg. She protected the leg, leaving her self open again, and I kicked her in the head. She went down. This time she was slow getting up.
Somehow, she found the strength and attacked furiously, but I was in control now. Coco Nimburu was mine. Patiently, I blocked each attack effortlessly. When I felt she was at the end of her attack, I blocked the strike and hit her in the head with the handle of my sword. The blow dazed her, and with one clean slice I took her head before she had a chance to riposte.
I had been merciless, just like she wanted me to be. For a second or two, she just stood there looking at me—vacant eyed—frozen in time. Then her head fell off her shoulders. Her lifeless body clasped. The nightmare was over. The great Coco Nimburu was dead.