The Other Side of the Tracks

Some lines you do not cross

A light dusting of snow fell on the ground, adding to the previous amount of snow from the day before. It didn't add too much, maybe an inch. However, it was enough to cover the railroad tracks, making it look like a white ladder extending its reach to beyond.

Marissa Lewis stood on the tracks thinking this was a strange place to have a catfight. She remembered challenging her opponent, expecting to finish her then and there. Instead, she accepted, gave a time and place, and told her she'll be there. Who chooses to have a fight in the snow, instead of someplace nice and warm? Well at least she'll be warm enough after she beats up this girl. Still, she should've insisted on some deserted room instead of standing on railroad tracks in the middle of the woods.

Despite the time that was agreed on, Marissa arrived twelve minutes early. She looked at the light snow falling, then looked at her outfit, a black leather bomber jacket worn over a pink sweatshirt, and blue jeans tucked into brown "Eskimo" boots. She also wore a black toboggan over her short reddish-brown hair, but she expected the cap to be one of the first things to go during the fight. She only paid two dollars for it, so it was not a big loss.

Right on time, her opponent arrived ' Isabella. Marissa wasn't expecting to see the sight that appeared a couple of yards in front of her. Isabella wore her usual shoulder-length brown hair, no hat; a zip-up brown sweater over a pullover shirt of the same color, no coat; a medium length brown skirt, and dark brown hose, no shoes. The weather didn't seem to bother her at all.

"I see you made it," Isabella said, in a tone too cheerful for one getting ready to fight.

"Of course I made it, this was where you wanted to fight, remember?" Marissa replied, annoyed. "You're going to take me on out here in the cold without a coat and no shoes? Why did you pick this place, anyway?"

"Hey, you're lucky to see me wearing anything on my feet at all. My little brother had a birthday party at this nice restaurant, so I had to go into the closet and dig out the shoes, yuck! I like the hose though, and the skirt gives me plenty of freedom to move.

"The reason why I picked this spot was because it brings back memories. See that clearing over there?" Isabella pointed to a clearing not far from where they were standing. "That's where we used to practice all year round, wearing only a black T-shirt and black yoga pants. When it got warm, we could wear a sports bra and boxing shorts. It got a little boring hammering away with our hands and feet against those trees, but it finally paid off."

Marissa gave Isabella a strange look. What were these people doing hitting trees wearing T-shirts and shorts in the cold?

Isabella pointed to another clearing. "See that spot? That's where we buried a student who failed a challenge."

"What?"

"Just kidding," Isabella said. "Say, why are we fighting again?"

"Because I don't like your face," Marissa said.

Standing the same height as Isabella, Marissa had been a longtime bully. She started her craft as a sixth grader, and perfected it as an art form by the time she was in high school. Even in college, a time where people generally grow out of such things, Marissa still found that there were uses for her bullying ways. Being a cheerleader in high school and college, Marissa became the most popular bully. Defeating the classic stereotype about bullies, Marissa wasn't the tallest or the strongest, just the meanest, as many of her victims could attest to that fact.

She picked Isabella as her next target for two reasons. The first was because of this so-called secret fighting camp or something that supposedly made her tough. Marissa wanted to prove that wrong. But what ticked her off the most about Isabella was just the fact she seemed aloof about everything, a condition Marissa planned to replace with fear.

"I'm going to rip your breasts off, and feed them to you," she continued.

Isabella glanced down at her narrow frame and laughed.

"Well good luck with that; by the time you find them, the fight will be long over," she said.

Self-effacing humor generally has an effect in calming down tense situations, but in this case, all it did was get Marissa mad.

"I'll do more than that," Marissa responded with a barrage of profanity that would have sailors take notes.

Isabella waited until she was finished, then said, "Okay, here are the rules."

"Rules?"

"Yes, see these yellow stripes painted across the tracks?"

"Yeah, so?"

"The stripes are about eight feet away from each other. Add that to the width of the rails from each other, and we have our battle rectangle where the group I used to be with would conduct our challenges. When we fight, we do not go outside of these boundaries no matter what happens. Any questions?"

"Is this where you're going to work your karate, kung fu, or whatever?" Marissa growled.

"Actually we were taught a little bit of everything, so I don't know," Isabella replied.

"Well I know," the bully said as she launched herself at her adversary, throwing a right cross that hit Isabella on the jaw. As Isabella's head snapped to the left and she appeared to fall down on the tracks, Marissa quickly remarked to herself that this was too easy; she didn't have the chance to try some of her new moves on me.

She found herself dead wrong.

In the next split-second, she found that Isabella rolled with the punch so effectively that it was doubtful that it caused any damage at all. Instead, she spun around, and fired a left side kick at Marissa's chest.

Isabella's foot, covered only by a layer of nylon, struck Marissa just an inch or two away from her solar plexus. Only her padded leather jacket prevented her from getting the wind knocked out of her. Still, the kick felt like she was hit by a baseball bat, and sent her stumbling back a few steps.

Now it was Isabella's turn to take the offensive. Leaping in front of Marissa, she started assaulting her with a series of fast, continuous vertical punches known in kung fu as chain punches to her chest. Soon, Marissa's jacket, which her big brother once said he couldn't penetrate with his best punch, offered little protection against Isabella's viper-like strikes. After what seemed like a hundred blows, Marissa attempted to block the punches. That also proved futile, because even the blocks hurt. Finally, Isabella stopped. She stood back to see what her opponent would do next.

Marissa stood holding her chest, which was now so sore, it hurt her to even breathe. She pushed out of her mind what her chest would be like if she didn't wear her leather jacket. She didn't know why Isabella stopped, but she knew she needed to take advantage of it. She forced herself forward; fingers extended to claw and grab whatever she could get a hold of. Taking a step forward, Isabella grabbed Marissa's left wrist and tugged slightly, moving her faster, directly into Isabella's right elbow, planting itself on the chin. Stunned, it was an easy matter for Isabella to take her right foot and execute a foot sweep, knocking out Marissa's legs from under her.

Marissa landed hard on the railroad tracks. Her vision was of the snow-filled sky and Isabella's face looming above her. Gone was the causal, happy-go-lucky expression she always wore, replaced with a look of anger. Then she felt Isabella's foot against her throat. Her hose-clad toes were cold against her larynx. Then she started gradually applying the pressure.

"You have chosen to challenge me, Marissa; now you must pay the price," Isabella said as she applied the pressure.

Marissa moved her hands frantically to remove Isabella's foot, but Isabella grabbed her left wrist and slightly bent it backwards.

"I have given you every opportunity to back out, to call this farce off, but you had to be stubborn, and fight me to satisfy your stupid pride. Now I must finish you off like I have the others," Isabella continued.

Marissa's mind was busy trying to comprehend the seriousness of what she meant, while trying to remain conscious enough to break free so she could breathe again. Tears started to form in her eyes. She just wanted to beat her up, wipe that smile off her face, not be involved in a fight to the death. This woman was crazy, and she tried to tell her so, but all she could produce was a gagging sound.

"You might as well save what little breath you have, I'm not listening," Isabella said. "You can also be glad your fate won't be in my hands. This one is more skilled at it. Hanna!"

From her blurry eyes, Marissa saw this woman come out of a clearing. She was about the same height as they were, but she had a heavyset figure, similar to a heavyweight weightlifter. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a bun. She wore a sweater colored in shades of white, blue, and dark blue in that order, with white snowflakes sprinkled all over. She had on blue jeans with the legs rolled up mid-calf, and was barefoot.

Hanna walked over to the two and looked at Marissa.

"What's her problem?" She asked.

"She said she didn't like my face, and wanted to do something about it," Isabella said.

"Huh. It looks like fine to me. You can move your foot now, she's starting to turn blue."

"Oh."

Isabella moved her foot from Marissa's throat. The woman lay there, gulping in as much air as she could.

"Does she get the usual treatment?" Hanna asked.

"Yeah, nothing special," Isabella replied.

Hanna produced a roll of duct tape. The sight of the tape made Marissa's eyes go wide.

"No, no, please don't," she struggled to say.

"You may have to gag her too. She has quite a mouth on her," Isabella said.

Though Isabella took her foot from Marissa's throat, she still had it planted in the middle of her chest, keeping her from going anywhere. They quickly bound her wrists and ankles with the tape. After they finished, they heard their captive begging and pleading, so Hanna ripped off a piece of tape and placed it over her mouth.

"You're right, she does have a mouth," Hanna said. "She can't make up her mind whether to cuss us out or beg for mercy."

"Well I'm finished here. Marissa, your fate is now in Hanna's hands. I'll save my breath pleading for mercy if I were you; Hanna's pretty heartless. Hanna, I'll see you at our usual spot after you've finished. Marissa, goodbye," Isabella said as Hanna tossed her over one shoulder and carried her off through the clearing.

There was an abandoned old building that wasn't far from the railroad tracks. It could've been an old house; it could have been a place of business, maybe even a place that worked with the railroad at one time. Whatever it was, it was lost to antiquity, and to Marissa, the last place when would see before she was taken from this mortal realm of existence.

She squirmed and tried to break herself free, but Hanna's hold on her was like iron. Hanna kicked the door open with the bare sole of her foot, and carried her to an old, but thick and sturdy, table. She laid Marissa down on the table, then jumped up and sat on her. She then pulled a pair of scissors from her pocket, and cut the tape from Marissa's wrists, only to replace them with rope as she tied each wrist to a table leg. When she finished, she turned and looked at Marissa's ankles. After a moment's thought, she cut the tape and started taking off the boots.

Marissa started bucking and squirming when that happened. She paid a lot of money for those boots. At least they could give her the dignity of dying with those boots on.

Hanna looked at Marissa's socks, realizing how sweaty they probably became during the conflict. Finally she sighed and gingerly took them off and placed them in each boot. Then she tied each ankle to the remaining table legs. She unzipped Marissa's coat, and pulled up her shirt to where her belly button would be showing. Finally, she pulled the tape off Marissa's mouth. Hanna jumped off the prone body.

"Please let me go, I'll do anything you want, I'll get you whatever you want, just let me go, please," Marissa pleaded.

"It's too late for that now," Hanna said matter-of-factly as she produced a canvas bag and started digging through it.

"So why are you doing Isabella's dirty work for her? She couldn't finish me off herself?"

"Oh she could, but you see, I'm a specialist. I can do the job much more efficiently."

"What are you going to do with my boots? You going to wear my socks too?"

"Oh heavens no! I was barely able to take them off, much less anything else. As for your boots, they may be my size, but I stopped wearing things like that a long time ago."

"Oh please let me go. I'll never bother your friend ever again!" Marissa begged.

Hanna grinned. "By the time I'm through, you'll never bother anyone again. Here it is," she said, lifting up a long black case.

Marissa's blood ran cold. Now this insane woman was going to pull out a scalpel, x-acto knife, or razor, and start performing surgery on her. She started screaming.

And screaming.

Along with calling for help, and crying out to God, repenting of every single thing she has ever done, she screamed some more. Finally, she stopped, because she had to catch her breath after screaming for fifteen minutes.

Hanna was unaffected, except for taking a finger to see if one of her eardrums was still functional.

"You have some good lungs, but no one outside of a five-mile radius can hear you. Some dogs and cats in the next county, maybe, but no humans," Hanna said.

"Please, let me go," Marissa pleaded, almost I a whisper.

Hanna said nothing as she held the box up lengthwise, grinning. She locked her eyes with Marissa's. Marissa started whimpering.

Hanna released the first clasp.

Marissa whimpered louder.

Hanna released the second clasp.

Marissa whimpered even louder, tears falling from her eyes.

Hanna slowly opened the lid.

"No, please," Marissa said.

Hanna put her index finger and thumb into the box.

Marissa's breath caught in her throat.

Then Hanna pulled out a ' a feather.

A feather?

A long, white feather.

In a weird sense, Marissa was almost disappointed. All that screaming and pleading for mercy, and all she had was a stinking feather? If it weren't for the fact that she was tied up, she would be cussing Hanna out right now. What was she going to do with a stupid fea-

Oh no.

Hanna, seeming to read her thoughts, said, "Oh yes. You see, it takes skill to use this fine instrument. I've never had anyone resist my technique."

"You, you're really crazy, you know that? Tying people up like prisoners so you can use your "technique' to, to-"

Hanna stroked the feather lightly across her belly.

"To tease people like ' HA, HA, HA!"

"I thought you might have a ticklish belly," Hanna said.

"Let me go!" Marissa demanded. "You let me go and ' HA, HA, HA! Stop that!"

"Marissa, I've just begun. Now let's check out your feet."

"No! No!" Marissa found herself screaming again. Or rather screams interrupted by bouts of laughter.

Marissa's body jerked like she was being electrocuted, finding no release.

After an hour, Hanna left the building.

At a submarine sandwich shop nearby the college campus, Isabella placed her hosed feet on the windowsill as she sipped her hot chocolate. No matter what time of the year it was, Isabella always felt chilled after she fought. As she sat with a brown overcoat draped around her shoulders, she felt her body heat return with every sip. Glancing at her watch, she estimated that Hanna should be through with her work and on her way to meet her. Five minutes later, a pair of bare feet planted themselves next to hers, as Hanna sat next to her with her own cup of hot chocolate.

"How did it go?" Isabella asked.

"Oh, the usual; I came, I saw, I tickled," Hanna replied, giggling. "She held out pretty good though. If I went at it ten more minutes after my usual time, she would've had to change clothes as soon as she got home."

"I wonder if she'll want a rematch?"

"What I'm wondering is what she'll tell her friends. That somebody beat her up and then tickled her to death? That would be embarrassing."

"I remember the look in her eyes."

"You mean the look that said, "Please don't kill me?'"

Isabella laughed. "Yup, that's the one."

"After I finished my work, she probably wished I killed her," Hanna said.

"You know, once upon a time, she would've got her wish."

The two gave each other a grim nod as they reflected back to an earlier time, not very long ago. A time where they would've been fiercer than they were now.

When the Daughters of Athena (DOA) offered Hanna and Isabella a chance to attend school for free upon membership, they agreed. Being athletic in high school, they had no problems with the intense weight-training requirement either. Upon choosing a martial art, both were hard pressed to pick one until someone suggested this new program that was recently created, called "December's Dozen;" because the founder, December, took some of the best techniques from twelve disciplines, including karate, jiu-jitsu, wrestling, and a few styles of kung fu, along with a few others. Unable to think of anything better, they decided to give it a try. They found they liked it despite the hard work put into it.

December's class did not meet in a dojo; instead, they met at a clearing by the railroad tracks. They met at that spot five days a week, all year round. In the rare event of inclement weather, they met in an unheated garage. The uniform was black T-shirts and black workout pants or boxing shorts. Normally, it was the custom of all DOA members to go barefoot or wearing socks or hosiery, but in December's program, going barefoot was mandatory as part of the "toughening" each student would go through.

Each student was required to strike and kick the nearby trees with their palms, and soles. Developing these "iron palms" and "iron soles" would become something quite lethal in combat, December had said. It was also the reason Isabella used her fists instead of her palms, lest she'd cause major damage to Marissa's ribs, heart, or internal organs.

The most unpredictable, but the most exciting part of the program was the daily challenges. Since the class was fairly large, selections were made by drawing lots. If one had already taken a challenge, they did not have to be involved in another one for the remainder of the week.

A challenge was a five to ten minute sparring session between two students, the winner decided by points, submission, or sometimes knockout. Challenges took place on a specifically designated spot on the railroad tracks. The two fighters were not allowed to leave the boundaries of the railroad tracks, lest they'd be disqualified. On rare occasions, one student could challenge another, but for continued harmony of the class, December didn't allow it too often.

To the observer, some of the challenges may seem a bit ' unfair. One student was scheduled for a challenge, but she suffered from a sore arm, possibly from one of the prior practices. She told December this, explaining that she could not participate in the challenge that day. December looked at her and told her that muggers and rapists did not care if her arm was hurt. A date where the man was planning on grouping and molesting her would not be put on hold until her arm got better. She'd have to fight hurt, plus she had at least three limbs left to fight with. She wound up winning that challenge, basing her offense on kicks and throws and holds where she could use her good arm.

Another "unfair" challenge came when the shortest woman in the class at 5'3" was scheduled to take on a challenge with the tallest woman in the class at 6'5". Distraught and worried, the short woman came to December and asked how she could possibly fight a woman much taller than she was.

"How does one cut down a tree?" December answered, and walked away.

The shorter woman heeded December's advice, and won the challenge, using her smaller stature to undercut her opponent's legs and shortly gaining a submission.

Eventually the program's reputation for toughness became known among the martial arts community in town. Even those within the DOA saw the training there was as demanding as what was required for a member of the Elite Guard or an enforcer. And the students knew it.

Despite the growing reputation, there were still those who wanted to test it. One of the students, a quiet, unassuming woman, found herself surrounded in a public restroom by six women who wanted to beat up one of these "tough chicks." Two minutes later, the "tough chick" left the restroom to have lunch with her friends while the six foes in the restroom lay in a bloodied, battered mess. The fight took less time in actuality; the woman took a moment to fix her hair after it was over.

The most striking example happened when one of the students went on a date with her boyfriend. After dinner, the two went on a late night stroll through a park. Suddenly, a mugger emerged from the bushes, pointing his knife six inches from her throat, and demanding all their money so nobody would get hurt.

That was the last thing the woman remembered. The next thing she remembered was her boyfriend pulling her off the mugger, begging her not to hurt their assailant anymore. It was later discovered that the mugger was one blow away from being in a coma, besides his other injuries. The woman said she didn't remember defending herself; it was all a haze. The boyfriend said he saw nothing like it, it was all a matter of seconds for her to disarm their attacker and then break his arm, another few seconds to kick his ribs, breaking some of them, and the remaining seconds to take him down and beat him senseless with lightning fast blows to the head.

For Isabella and Hanna, their moment of truth appeared one time at a coffeehouse one late afternoon. They had a normally demanding session of practice, and after it was over, they felt like going out and kicking back, maybe play a few games of pool and have a few slices of pan pizza. Since it seemed like everyone heard of their program's reputation, that night they decided to dress the part. Donning black sports bras covered by thin white blouses, and black biking shorts, their well-developed bodies were visible to anyone who had eyes to see. Black toenail polish on their bare feet helped draw even more attention to the steel cable-like muscle in their legs.

Attention was drawn to the two women as some men found themselves looking at the two hard bodies. Some even asked about the grueling practices in the elements, and Isabella and Hanna fielded all questions, sometimes exaggerating a little on the answers to make their rough practices sound even more strenuous. They received a few phone numbers from men to help busy their evenings.

They even boasted about their new names. December had let her students adopt new names for themselves. The teacher would give them a name that reflected their ability. Isabella was called "Striking Cobra" because of her speedy palm strikes and chain punches. Hanna was called "Iron Mountain" because of her resistance to pain, great strength, and a strong sense of balance.

However, the two women also drew the wrong kind of attention too. While they sat down to enjoy some pizza, a man and woman from one of the local karate dojos came by, and verbally attacked them.

They first announced their suspicions about the DOA; what it really was, what they did in the past, etc. This didn't bother the two women; they've heard all this before, and it didn't have anything to do with them. Besides their reason was the free schooling. They then accused their program of lacking originality. This again was no big deal, for December told them up front that what she taught them, even the exercises were gleamed from several styles of karate, kung fu, judo, jiu-jitsu, wrestling, and even boxing.

Finally the couple accused December of being a charlatan, an imposter who was not teaching her art with honor, but instead training her students to be living killing machines. After mentioning some of the incidents they heard, it would not be long before one ended with a fatality.

That did it.

Eager to defend their teacher's honor, Isabella and Hanna delivered a challenge to the two of them at the railroad tracks, as soon as they could get there. The couple, believing the program was for the most part a lot of hype, agreed. Now was the time to see how they compete against real martial artists, not mere punks on the street.

The couple shown up at the tracks, each wearing their respective karate gis while Isabella and Hanna just took off their blouses. Hanna quickly dictated the rules of the challenge to them, and they took their places on the railroad tracks. Isabella shouted "Begin!" and they squared off.

To their credit, the karate practitioners did well, but they were unprepared for the type of discipline the two women were trained in. the woman eventually fell under the barrage of Iron Palm blows given by Isabella or Striking Cobra. The speedy palm blows smashed through her guard, bruising flesh and fracturing bone wherever they landed. The man landed a number of good blows as well, but Hanna was the Iron Mountain; practicing one of the styles of kung fu known as Iron Shirt; no blows could hurt her if she didn't want them to. She stepped closer to her frustrated foe, picked him up around the waist, and slammed him down on the tracks. It was simple for Isabella to deliver a foot sweep to topple her stunned opponent, sending her tumbling down on the tracks as well.

As Isabella and Hanna mounted their foes to finish them off, they stopped. The fight was now over, there was no doubt, but as Isabella looked into the frightened eyes of the woman she fought, she found that she was one palm strike away from ending it, ending her. One blow to the nose, temple, or neck or forehead would do it. Not far from them, Hanna saw that a second chokehold, strangle, or a sudden twist of his neck could deliver a sudden end to her fight.

From their spots, the two friends looked at each other. These two women came strolling into the coffeehouse feeling like they're queens of the world, until someone came by to question their program's integrity and purpose. Basically these two challenged their critics, prepared to fight them and kill them.

Over a name.

What have they become?

Without exchanging a word, the two women stood up and walked to their cars. Isabella stopped and turned to the defeated karate couple.

"You've won," she said.

The woman rose slowly and painfully. "We won?" She said.

"Yes, whatever the argument was, you won and we lost," Hanna explained.

The man was still struggling to figure out why his best punches and kicks had no effect on Hanna, and was beaten by a simple throw to the ground. He said, "You lost?"

"Yes, we lost. This fight is now over," Isabella said as they got into the car, and drove away.

Back in their dorm room, the two women struggled to come to grips with what they have done. After much thought and debate, they came to the conclusion that it was the way they were trained in their discipline that was the reason for most of it; the other reason was they allowed their ego and attitude grow larger than their belt rankings. Eventually, they decided their best course of action was to quit the program. That was going to be difficult because of the friends that they've made there, and December saw her select number of pupils as a family. But what they discovered was the exercise of their gifts almost caused them to cross the line, and there were some tracks one should not cross.

Fortunately for the two, fate intervened. The leader of the DOA asked December to help train some students at a new facility in Iowa. To an even bigger surprise, all the other students decided to go with her. This made life easier for Isabella and Hanna, but there were a few new problems that occurred.

The first was with December's absence and the absence of the program's students. Suddenly men and women from other dojos along with bullies and tough women alike saw the duet as a target. Hanna and Isabella found they had to defend themselves on a regular basis, but how could they do this in a non-lethal manner?

The second dilemma was the two ladies still wanted to be involved in a martial art, but which one? And who would take them?

The first problem was solved when Hanna decided that defeated foes received the "tickle treatment." Not only were they beaten, they were also embarrassed. To admit you were beaten is one thing, but admitting you were tickled afterwards?

For the second problem, it was a tricky matter. The departure of December's program heralded what was to be known as the "dojo wars," where some martial arts schools would openly attack the DOA-ran schools. It made things all the more ironic because December never used a dojo to teach her class. But formerly belonging to one of the DOA's toughest programs, some dojos were wary about accepting the two women at all.

Finally the two discovered a school where the martial arts of aikido and tai chi were taught together. The place where classes were taught was in a high school gym. Isabella and Hanna found that the whole class was taught in a more casual manner than what they were used to. The students were dressed casually ' no uniforms ' from exercise outfits to T-shirts and jeans. To the ladies' horror, a few of them were even wearing shoes, something their former teacher would never allow.

After class was over, the two women met with the instructor, Jasmine Chang. Jasmine was a 5'6" Asian-American woman of Japanese decent, with a build similar to Isabella, except it didn't look like she ever worked on hardening her hands and feet. Her black hair only went as far as her earlobes. She was dressed in a yellow tracksuit with black and white racing stripes down the side. Aside from the fabric being silk, the outfit looked like what Bruce Lee wore in his last movie, or for a more recent example, Uma Thurman wore in the movie, "Kill Bill." The irony was not lost on the two women.

"So do you have a sword to go with your outfit?" Isabella joked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Jasmine replied, smiling. "A Gold Dragon samurai sword. If you take lessons here, you might get to see it. But you didn't come here to talk about cutlery; you came to see if you could join my classes."

"Gee, word travels fast, doesn't it?" Hanna said, a little frustrated.

"A little bit; but I want to hear your story. Some instructors think you two are spies or plants to disrupt things in their classes. I somehow doubt December would be so generous to share her students. Tell me what happened."

Isabella and Hanna told Jasmine about the program, their training, and the story of what happened at the railroad tracks.

"I see," Jasmine replied. "First, I commend you both for exercising your self-control. Second, there's external martial arts and internal martial arts. What December has taught you was most definitely external. With what I teach, it's not just a matter of hardening the body as it is the spirit. The disciplines I teach deal with using an attacker's force and energy against them. Third, let me get this straight; your sensei said that the skills she taught you and the power that's been given to your bodies make you near invincible in combat?"

"Yes," Hanna said.

"And do you believe this, Isabella?"

There was a pause, then Isabella finally answered, "Yes."

"I see," Jasmine replied. "Ladies, let's spar for a moment."

"Uh sure, which one of us do you want to go first?"

"Both of you will be fine."

Both women looked at each other, and then looked at Jasmine.

"Teacher, you can't be serious!" Hanna said.

"Why not? If each one of you could take down a karate practitioner, then together you should be able to defeat a mere teacher of an inferior discipline. Let's go, don't hold back."

Hanna and Isabella shrugged, then got on opposite sides of Jasmine before they launched their attack. For Isabella, the Striking Cobra, her lightning-like palm thrusts, and kicks were useless because they couldn't reach their target without encountering a block, parry, or having a punch turned into a hold or throw. For Hanna, the experience was like wrestling the wind, because every time she thought she could grab Jasmine, she suddenly found out the teacher wasn't there anymore. Then she would find herself on the floor as well. Jasmine didn't deliver any blows, choosing instead to block, parry, and throw.

The sparring ended when Isabella and Hanna found themselves tangled up in each other on the mat.

"I believe that concludes our sparring session," Jasmine said.

"That was incredible!" Isabella said.

"And you only know two disciplines," Hanna replied.

"The discipline your teacher taught you is indeed formidable, but in the end, it's not how many fighting styles you know, but it's mastering the ones you do know that make the difference. Plus, no one is "invincible;' the sooner you realize that and practice it, the more "invincible' you'll become," Jasmine continued. "There are literally hundreds of martial arts to choose from; the greatest warriors usually only knew one. If you decide to take my classes, it could help aid you in the greatest battle of all, the war within us."

"Does this mean we'll have to give up what we learned?" Hanna asked.

"Oh no! I won't be taking your skills, I'll be adding to them. We won't be getting up early in the morning to be striking trees or dueling on railroad tracks, but that does not make us any less disciplined."

Over the next few months as the two took Jasmine's classes, they found there was indeed a contrast in styles. Where December exercised speed, Jasmine exercised control by moving slower, which in the end made them faster. They discovered it exhibited more of a meditative quality to it. The most obvious was in terms of mindset. Instead of crushing your enemies like December taught, Jasmine taught that one should make peace with them, using force as a last resort. This proved to be very valuable when people from rival schools challenged them. When a challenge could not be avoided, the two arranged to have it on their terms. This eventually led them to the tickle torture they created to help deter rematches. So far, it's worked.

Back at the coffeehouse, Isabella looked at the empty cup that once held her hot chocolate.

"Do you wonder if our old teacher will come back?" Isabella asked.

"I don't know, why would she come back?" Hanna said.

"To get us."

"I think about how she might have felt, since two of her students suddenly dropped out on her, disappearing off the face of the earth without even saying goodbye. I think about how she didn't see us as students so much as she saw us as her own daughters. She practically became a second mom to me." Hanna suddenly paused before she took her final sip of hot chocolate. "You don't think she'd come all the way back from Iowa to get us, do you?"

Isabella could only look at her friend for a response.

"Oh Isabella, what do we do?" Hanna said.

"All I can think of is we go to our new teacher, Jasmine. She'll know what to do," Isabella said.

Hanna finished her hot chocolate. "I don't want to go to Iowa," she said.

"Me neither. Maybe December will be too busy with things to worry about us."

"Yeah. Hey, you want to go back to our place to practice our tai chi moves? It'll help get our minds at ease."

"Good idea; I'm still a little keyed up from the fight today."

After they left the coffeehouse, they first dropped by the railroad tracks. Apparently, Marissa was able to free herself after Hanna loosened the ropes that tied her wrists to the table. She picked up everything on the way out except her socks.

"Hey, she left her socks," Isabella said.

"If you felt them, you'd leave them behind, too," Hanna replied.

"Yuck!"

"From the way she responded, she'll either be very embarrassed or extremely angry and may want to approach you again, but not any time soon. Let's go home."

They reached their apartment, and spent the rest of the evening performing their tai chi movements, and occasionally thinking about their old teacher and class in Iowa, which at that moment, seemed like they were on the other side of the world, the other side of the tracks.

Any comments, suggestions, or story ideas can be sent to shrewsberry@juno.com.