Chapter 39

The native distrip burst forth with life, a quick and blooming oasis in an arid desert. Shop owners hung their wares from tree branches and erected small stands on the earthen floor. The bazaar centered on a small log building from which several armed men kept watch, presumably the only semblance of law and order in the market. People bustled from one stand to next keeping their heads low and their hands in their pockets, tightly clutching any or all of their currency. The market was in full swing.
Two men entered the distrip from one of the several pathways leading in from the forest. They began to mill about the market, joining the busy throng. The crowd walked in silence, only speaking at stands and, even then, only of business. Of the two men recently arrived one stopped to observe an older gentleman attempting to barter a live chicken for solar panels as the other haggled with a shopkeeper over the price of eggs.
A single shot was fired into the air.
The distrip cleared.
The two men stood next to the now-abandoned stand as a cluster of four men dressed entirely in black approached them. The street was quiet and dusty, hearkening back to an overused cliché. The man who had been haggling the expense of eggs gestured to his observing friend, inferring that he should step to the side.
After his companion withdrew, the other man approached the four clad in black in the middle of the road and drew his sword. The four men drew their pistols, each barrel aimed at a single target.

*~~*

The advantage that a person with a handgun has over an unarmed opponent is undeniably paramount. This singular concept has changed the course of history on multiple occasions and has proven to be the defining characteristic in man’s domination of subservient cultures. Cortes and his Aztecs. Pizarro and his Incans. Etcetera ad Nauseum.

It is, however, just a device. A tool with which there are advantages and disadvantages. Still affected by the laws of physics and still held to the dynamic tenets of chance. These four men felt solidly grounded in their advantage over the man with little more than a stick of steel. Their arrogance was to be their undoing.

*~~*

At first, just one step.
A verbal warning.
The handle rests loosely in the palm of his hand.
He turns the blade just slightly to catch the sun in its surface.
One more step.
A shot is fired and the man dodges to the right.
Eight quick steps and he’s right behind you.
Three where there were four.
Two shots fired at a moving target.
Missed.
Two where there were three.
A quick spin.
One. Just one.
Four shots fired in succession.
The gun falls to the ground with its owner.

*~~*

The man sheathed his sword and walked back towards his companion waiting at the side of the road. Shopkeepers ran from the forest and begin to pillage the remains of the fallen assailants. The people slowly reappeared and the market began to rumble again. The two men disappeared into the sea of the distrip, swallowed by the shuffling feet and downcast faces.