Crackle

It was inevitable.

There was no avoiding the welcome battle. The two young warriors were ready. They waited anxiously as the instructor toyed with them, withholding his permission to strike until he detected some hint that one of the combatants' attention was wandering. That moment did not come. They knew better.

Their garb was identical in cut and color, an effect of the strictly enforced identicality policy common to all martial training organizations in the world. The students' poise and equipment mirrored each other's precisely, but for one thing. One of the young men was armed and the other was not. Held firmly in the meaty grip of the more experienced fighter was a long straight knife, the color of blood. The young unarmed opponent eyed the weapon with taught anxiety clearly written across his face. They waited.

"STRIKE!!" Cried the instructor.

As if two titanic bodies, inexorably drawn together by their own gravitational masses, had been suddenly and totally released, by some even more incredible force that barely restrained them, they hurled themselves at one another. The younger and less experienced fighter desperately aimed a surprise knee strike to the inner thigh to his ape-like opponent, but he failed miserably. The ape anticipated this strike and turned his knee outward, simultaneously lessening the impact of the strike and throwing his fearful opponent off balance.

The thwarted young man did not even have time to wonder where the strike would come from. He did not even see the knife as it moved intently to his upper abdomen. The pain was incredible. It shot outward from the wicked weapon's point of contact and the young man doubled over in agony, no longer able to hold himself upright. He received no help from his training partner, who followed him to the ground driving the weapon ever deeper into his victims flesh. The wounded trainee hit the ground clutching his stomach and the arm of his attacker. Oddly, even louder than the young man's sudden expulsion of breath and subsequent collision with the ground, was the incessant malevolent crackle of electricity caused by the wicked implement with which he had been "stabbed."

"Recover, and reverse rolls!!!!" cried the instructor trying to hold back the tears of mirth that the twitching trainees had caused.

The merciless attacker disengaged the fire button on the training “Taser knife” and helped his partner to his feet. The panting and sore young man took the offered knife with resolve to repay his friend for his "instruction" in kind. They took their positions and waited. The recently armed trainee's look of anxiety had been replaced with a scowl that clearly spoke of the sweet revenge he would shortly claim...


STRIKE!!!!