Hacking the Sun [Old Version]

Chapter 4.2 Yin-Yang Girl

It was a strange sensation, moving without moving, so Jessica deliriously thought up an escape. "Beam me up, Scotty!" she grumbled.

"We're going to get you home." The voice, it belonged to her friend. At least, she thought he was her friend. Her inebriated mind tried to formulate questions but was barely capable. Everything was dark if not hazy, and the movement coddled her sickness. A fear of stumbling suddenly crashed her imagination.

"Hey!" exclaimed a poetic voice of anger.

***

Shannon watched the head turn and peer over Jessica's elbow. Without a doubt, it was the same student from the club, Jessica's asshole companion.

"It's the poet!" he said condescendingly. "Nice job up there."

She scowled at Jessica and the stiff arm over his neck. The empty side alleys of Nocturnal Maryment offered plenty of room to move, as well as its share of obscurity. It was too shady for Shannon's liking, but it was here the quiet, nightly chill could carry every word without interruption. "I know what you did!" she said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Dumb's not a good look!"

"Hmph." The tall student gently unwrapped Jessica and set her down against the alley concrete. A wolf's grin sharpened his cheekbones as he set one step forward. "Listen," he started, "I do not know your issue or what it is you're accusing me of,"—another foot forward—"but just look at her." He motioned to pale Jessica asleep, black hair draped like a doll. "So I just need to take her home, if that's okay with you."

"Why don't you wake her up then?" interrogated Shannon. "Make life easier."

"You should keep your voice down. She obviously needs her sleep, overachiever that she is."

"You won't mind if I check, just to make sure she's a hundred percent. I prefer to keep Nocturnal's reputation intact." Shannon advanced and reached over, but the stranger's arm caught her by the wrist.

"I do mind," he said.

"You should let go of me."

He shoved her back. "And you should worry about yourself."

"Or what?"

Brow cocked, lip bit, the student pressed his hand on Shannon's chest. She stumbled back a few steps, keeping her balance and darting a defiant scowl. He advanced again. 

Personal space invaded, Shannon quickly jolted along the jerk's arm, stepping behind his foot, grabbed his bleach mane and pulled until he squealed like a Chinchilla; then punched his extended throat.

The student hit the ground, where he choked and throttled his jacket collar. Shannon stretched her neck in the meantime, leering in disgust. 

Eventually, he clumsily scrounged to his feet. "I'm gonna knock you silly," he cackled with a fist, but he felt the sole of her sneaker smack his cheek so that he once again hit the ground.

She spun three-sixty degrees to round-house kick him in the face, certain the blow would knock him unconscious, but then he blew a bitter moan. She glared, baffled by his stupid resolve. "Damn, muthafucka, you're stubborn!"

As he stood, his expression was a patch of highlights frazzled over forehead creases.

"Third time's the charm," Shannon mocked, then took a wide stance and instigated him forward with a flap of the hand.

He charged without warning.

Too fast, however, Shannon kicked his leg into the pavement. After the stubborn boy fell, she loomed over him. "Get up!"