Techno Samurai

Shards of glass rained down to the floor, shrieks echoed throughout the quaint evening setting as armoured bodies furiously hurled themselves through shattered windows. Feet crunched across the sprinkled glass, the terrified occupants and staff herded into a corner. The Warriors imposed their presence, their gaze never departing the shivering mass of people. They stood rigidly as their Master surveyed the scene, his ageing eyes twitching across the ruined vicinity, fervently searching for what he desired.

“Late again, my boss will chuck a spaz at this,” Amira sighed aloud, strolling towards the corner street cafe. Tossing her hair behind her back, she opened the back screen door. She casually paced forward with the beat of the song playing on her MP3; its rhythm rolling her feet along. Snatching a scrunchy, Amira slid her hair into a work-safe acceptable style as she walked into the kitchen.

“Sorry I’m late!” she called, snatching her MP3 from its groove in her pocket. Dragging her thumb across towards the off switch, Amira froze. Her dark brown eyes forced her head up, to behold the sight before her. Her eyes widened in horror, twenty masked warriors stood over the shattered floor, staring stiffly, their entire attention focused. She briefly glanced at the fearful hostages, yet the intense glare of the masked menaces swiftly re-claimed her attention.

The Master’s stare bored into Amira. His eyes blazed with fury when he sighted the neon blue MP3 quivering in her hand. He screeched an order, and his soldiers instantaneously unsheathed their blades, efficiently marching towards their petrified target. Suddenly, a minute nerve trembling in her hand flicked her thumb across the MP3 panel, playing an unknown song. In the second of its ignition, Amira flinched. The Warriors halted. The music encapsulated her entire being, the beat spread throughout her body, its rhythm entwining with her every fibril. She lifted her face and showed her eyes to the attackers, the sight of the intense, serene blue that swirled through her pupils left them frigid. The Master cried an order to his men, but it failed. Amira charged forward, her heel smashed into the leather-plated cheek of the nearest Warrior. He shrivelled to the floor, taken in a single blow. The Warriors melted out of their state and into attack, but Amira just smirked. Moving gracefully with the beat, she snatched a sword of the downed assaulter, elegantly swiping away their blows. The Warriors fell, Amira stood composed as the pounding techno built to its climax. Fury steamed out his mask, the Master lunged forward. Amira ducked and thrust her blade upwards. In an instant, the Master crumpled, the fire in his eyes extinguished.

Amira rose up and walked past the shocked witnesses, paralysed by the event that just took place. Amira shifted the earphones and walked towards the broken doorway. She glanced at the crowd.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the insurance will cover it,” she added dryly, walking into the night, the beat pulsing along with her every step.

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