"FWLS55" - читать интересную книгу автора (A Future We'd Like to See)

keeping the knife rigid. First error.

I whipped out my spatulas from my belt holsters and dove
down below the dangerous object, planting one spatula under his
crotch and the other below his upraised arm. Much to his
surprise, I twisted around, lightly tossing him into a nearby
land rover's driver seat, through a closed window.

I re-aligned my spatulas, and turned to face the other two
hooligans. "Anything else you want?"

"Your life, bitch!" one of them snarled, pulling a simple
handheld blaster and firing. I easily deflected the bolt away
with the mirrored side of my spatula, where it harmlessly melted
the tire of a parked car. Whipping around once, I impacted both
flats on the side of the gunman's head, knocking him to the
ground.

"And you want?" I asked the third.

"Err... the time?" he asked, tapping his watch.

"Seven thirty four," I replied.

"Good. Umm. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to run away
now."

"If you could please stay for a moment," I requested,
holstering the spatulas after making sure he didn't have a weapon
drawn other than his own fear and personal timepiece. "I require
assistance as well."

"Lady, I don't have much on me--"

I held up my map. "Can you show me where the Tatewaki Wae
Spat Dojo is?"

"Wae Spat? That thing the ex-Stomach Contents guy made up?
Is that what you used? Wow. I gotta learn that."

"It takes many years of practice, both as a fighter and a
chef. Now, do you know the location of the dojo?"

"According to this map, it's three blocks that way, then
turn right. Can't miss it."

"Thank you. Now, your credit chip please?"

The man blinked, but quickly handed it over. "Don't take
too much, please, I haven't had dinner yet tonight..."