The Red Queen

The next day, after her yoga, Bo is indeed out shopping. The rain has eased off as she shakes her umbrella and ties it back up. She has already had a “productive” day shopping, with bags of goodies hailing from such shops as “Selfridges”, “Bloomingdales” and “Harrods”. She also seems to have dressed for the occasion; a tight black, sleeveless tunic-style dress that barely made it to her knees and black heels. She’s already gotten several wolf-whistles, car horn toots and a lot of young men staring at her as she sauntered down the busy streets.

She didn’t admit it, but she kind of liked the attention she got wearing such a figure-hugging garment.

She crossed the busy road and turned down an alley into the car park where her beloved pick-up truck was parked. She loved that truck; a ten-year anniversary gift given to her by Maria mere months before Talos showed up.

Suddenly, she felt a familiar tremor in the air that caused her to stop. As she looked around, to locate her potential opponent, a man stepped out from the shadows of the car park.

Silently, she cursed herself for not bringing her sword.

Maria isn’t going to let her live this one down.

If she’s still alive after this, of course.

The man standing in front of her is tall and dressed in grey trousers with a grey frockcoat over them, partially hiding his cream shirt, and black shoes. His black hair is neatly combed back, and his fanciful goatee looks well groomed. Over-all, quite a handsome man who Bo wouldn’t have minded too much if he had asked her to dinner, or a drink in some swanky bar. The cavalry Sabre in his hand told her that he was inviting her to a different kind of engagement.

‘I am Colonel Everett Cullen, of the Confederate States Army...’ he announced in a thick southern drawl, ‘...and I’m here to claim your head...!’.

‘I am shopping...’ replied Bo, matching his tone, almost mocking him, ‘...and you, sir, are in my way...!’.

Cullen clearly didn’t get the joke and took a fighting stance.

‘Draw your weapon, madam...’ he said sternly, ‘...defend yourself’.

‘Oh, dear...’ said Bo, in an over-the-top girlie tone, ‘...I appear to have left it at home! I’ll just pop back and get it...’ she finished edging nearer where her truck was parked, ‘...won’t be a mo...’.

Without warning Cullen pounced with a thrust of his sword in Bo’s direction. Bo jumped back, only just managing to dodge the razor-sharp blade from skewering her like a kebab. Immediately, Cullen swung his Sabre at her head. Bo ducked the swing, still holding her bags, before Cullen sliced the air at her face. Dodging this, Bo threw her bags gently to one side and fought back with her umbrella. Like two seasoned fencers, they sparred with each other for a few moments before Cullen pressed harder with his attack. Bo was in serious danger of falling over, as Cullen pressed his sword down upon her brolly, adding to the many cuts which have no doubt ruined it, as the tight tunic dress wasn’t giving much in the way of flexibility; obviously the designer never intended it for urban combat.

She resigned the brolly to her right hand, curled her left hand into a fist and lashed out in Cullen’s direction. Her fist hit the bridge of his nose, sending a fountain of blood cascading over the pavement and causing him to break off his attack and stagger back a few paces.

‘You cheated, madam...!’ he protested, clutching his nose in his left hand, ‘...that’s not very sporting!’.

‘And attacking an unarmed woman is...?’ retorted Bo, ‘...have you no honour, sir?’.

This seemed to deeply offend Cullen, as he doubled his attacks towards Bo, managing to cut her right hand, causing her to drop the only weapon she had. In reply, Bo slammed the bridge of her right foot into his ribs and hooked a left fist into his jaw. Cullen dropped his sword with the impact and continued towards the pavement. Just as he almost fell flat on his face, he laid his palms flat, supporting his weight and lashed out at Bo’s gut with his right foot. This caught her completely by surprise, knocking the wind out of her and sending her tumbling into some nearby bins, her arms flailing as she fell, disturbing the multitude of black bags that surrounded the bins, and burying her in refuse sacks. Satisfied that he’d sufficiently incapacitated Bo, Cullen scooped his sword and took two steps towards where she lay, before feeling another tremor in the air. Swinging his sword around, he saw a thin man in a beige hooded robe with his arms outstretched.

‘Brother...’ the man started, ‘...there’s no need for violence, as you can see, I am unarmed...’.

‘I am Colonel Everett Cullen, of the Confederate States Army...’ he repeated, completely forgetting that he was already engaged, ‘...state your business, sir, or begone...!’.

‘I know who you are...’ came the reply, '...and I urge you, Brother Cullen, stow your weapon, renounce The Game and live in peace...!’.

Bo suddenly popped her head up from within the mass of refuse sacks at hearing the newcomer. Luckily, she was still almost invisible amidst the black bags.

‘Really...?’ echoed Cullen, scanning the length of the man, ‘...how do you know me, sir... have we met before...?’.

‘What are we, but the sum of our deeds, Brother...?’ came the reply.

Before Cullen could reply, a police car suddenly pulled into the alley and gave a short sharp “whoop, whoop” warning as the flashes of red and blue filled the narrow alley, lighting it up like a discotheque. Cullen turned to this new threat, with no intention of hiding the sword.

‘You...!’ came a cry from within the police car as it slowed to a halt, ‘...you with the sword - hold it right there...!’.

‘Another time-’ Cullen started, turning back to his new playmate. But he had gone, ‘...dammit...!’ he muttered, and ran. The policemen leapt out of the car, and started to give chase, but Bo threw off some of the bags that engulfed her, exposing her location. The policemen stopped in their tracks and rushed to help her out.

‘Are you ok, Miss..?’ started one of the officers, hauling her from the bins. He looked mid-forties, with dark skin, brown eyes and short dark hair. His companion was younger, with blonde hair.

‘Yes, yes thank you...’ Bo gasped in feigned panic. The blonde touched the radio upon his lapel.

‘Control, this is Edwards...’ he said into the microphone, ‘...possible sighting of the Head-hunter, heading west from the shopping district. Over...’.

‘Copy that, Edwards...’ crackled the response by an unknown female from “Control”, ‘...diverting car 42 to investigate. Over...’.

‘And possible witness at High View car park. Female, Caucasian. No physical trauma. Over...’ the blonde replied.

‘Did you get a look at the man, Miss...?’ asked the older cop, softly, ‘...take your time and think’.

Bo did think.

Bo thought it was best not to reveal either of those two, not until she could find out who the hell they were, and why Cullen attacked her in such a public place.

‘No, I’m sorry I didn’t get a good look. It happened so fast...’ she lied. The officer smiled warmly at her.

‘Well, don’t you worry, Miss...’ he said softly, ‘...we will catch him. You’re lucky we came along when we did...’.

‘Yes, I suppose I am...’ she said, flirtatiously playing with her hair. She wondered if they would talk to her like this if she wasn’t dressed the way she was.

‘Is there anyone we can call to take you home...?’.

Bo was about to give Maria’s name when she changed her mind. Some of the Central City cops resented having a female boss - even more so, a gay one.

‘No, no, I’ll be fine, thank you...’ she squeaked. She was so grateful not to have her sword right now. There’d be far too many questions. The dark officer smiled and headed back to the car.

‘Mind how you go now, Miss...’ said Edwards, the blonde officer, when the darker officer was out of earshot, ‘...you’re lucky to be alive, you know that, right...?’.

‘Um... yes, I suppose I am...’ Bo replied, scooping up her bags.

‘Young ladies like you shouldn’t be wondering about without a man’s protection...’ he said in a matter-of-fact tone, '...I wouldn’t let you out by yourself if you were my property...’.

'Your property...?’ echoed Bo with disbelief, ‘...you sexist little shit...!’ she wasn’t going to do this, but she felt a bit of a rant coming, '...I am not, nor will ever be, any man’s property, thank you very much...!’.

Thankfully, for Edwards, the darker officer had seen Bo’s reaction from the car and came up behind Edwards as Bo began her rant.

‘Now that’s enough, Edwards...’ he bellowed so suddenly that both Edwards and Bo jumped, '...you apologise to this young lady and wait in the car - I think she’s been through enough.

‘I’m sorry, Miss...’ said Edwards sheepishly, hanging his head, ‘...I was out of order’.

Bo stayed silent but scowled at the young man as he scuttled off.

‘My deepest apologies, Miss...’ he said, ‘...some of these rookies have no respect...’.

‘That’s quite alright, officer...’ she lied again.

She wanted to run after him and beat some “respect” into him.

‘Are you sure there’s no-one I can call...?’ the dark officer asked again, ‘...I’ll just worry about you otherwise...’. Bo smiled.

He was sweet.

‘Maybe if you would let Detective Inspector Tindale know what happened...?’ she said.

‘Of course...’ he said, ‘...is she a close friend...?’.

Bo decided to go for it.

‘She’s my wife...’ she said.

The dark officer smiled.

Bo wasn’t expecting that.

‘I always thought she had good taste...’ he said, '...I’ll be sure to let her know you are safe, Miss - I mean, Mrs...’ he corrected with a grin, before walking back to the car. Bo heard him talking to the unknown female from “control”. She heard the words “Tindale”, “wife” and “safe”.

Bo smiled. At least there were still some mortals worth fighting for.

She didn’t go straight home.

She sat in the pick-up truck for what seemed like an eternity before grabbing her cell-phone and punching in a seemingly random set of letters before pressing “send”. After a few seconds of staring at the screen, there was a bleep signalling a reply and she finally discarded the phone onto the passenger seat, started the truck and pulled out of the car park.