WHAM!
Asian reporter Melody Matsushita immediately whipped her head in the air, followed by a trail of hair. Her eyes darted until they found the source of the noise.
“Asleep on the job again, Melody?”
Her boss was a large man, very muscular, and had a high enough pressure in him to pop most blimps. He had no hair, shaved or bald she couldn’t tell. His eyes were a sharp shade of green, and had an almost painful effect to them.

She rubbed her eyes to get the sleep out of them. Then shook her head.

“No sir. I was just resting my eyes while these papers printed for my interview.”
“Wasn’t that interview scheduled for noon?”
“No sir. 12:30.”
He took three massive steps over to her desk and peered at the computer screen.
“Just as I thought. The printing was done a little over two hours ago. It’s 2:45.”
She continued to rub at her eyes a little wearily. “I’m sorry I fell asleep sir, I was up lat---”

Then it dawned on her.

“OH SHI--”
Her boss drowned out the last part of her sentence, “MELODY!”
“I’M LATE FOR MY INTERVIEW!”

Before her boss could say anything else, she sidestepped the desk and sprinted out of the office faster than most people can run, in heels, no less.

At the exit of the building, she whistled sharply. A cab tore into the open space between two cars. She slid into the seat quickly. “Double the meter if you can get me to Chez Café in less than five minutes.”

His voice was slurred with a thick Boston accent, “Whateva yous say, ya crazy broad.” He hit the accelerator hard and fast.

Melody took a deep breath to calm herself a bit and examined her reflection in the mirror. Her Asian features were distinct, but muted by the decent tan she recently earned on vacation. She wore thick-rimmed glasses, which gave the impression of a sexy librarian, which did nothing to shield the world from her determined eyes. She was in her usual work attire, which was a somewhat clingy suit and skirt, which did little to hide her curves. Which was just as well, considering how much she used them to get information from whomever it is that has it. On her neck was a little silver chain with a small, unreadable emblem on it. It was a gift from her last interview while she was on vacation. One with the famed Captain Nine to Five. He happened to be in town at this particular moment, and that is who her interview was with this time around, too.

The cab screeched to a halt about forty paces from Chez Café, and to the cabbie’s credit, he had arrived in a shocking three minutes. She slapped two twenties into the man’s hand and moved fluidly out of the cab and down the street at a speed most people thought not possible at such a stride. He called after her, “Thanks ya!” and pulled his cab out into traffic. She paused just outside the door and took three deep breaths, composed herself, opened the door, and tripped.

She let out a small scream and plummeted, and the floor rose to greet her.

Until she landed onto someone in a suit. His chest had the tone of muscle, which is abnormal for someone who wears a suit like this one. She looked up at the man who caught her and said, “Excuse me, si--” She was going to finish with “sir” but the man who was staring back at her was none other than John Smith, the man she had come to interview.

“Hello again Melody. It’s pleasure to see you again. I’m glad you could drop in.”
She felt herself smile uncontrollably. “Hello again, John. I’m so sorry I’m late.”“No trouble at all. I just sat here, watched the people, and enjoyed my cup of coffee.”She flicked her wrist into view and checked her watch, “For three hours?”He glanced at his watch and looked nonplussed, “It’s been that long?”She nodded, “Yeah. You okay to sit here for an interview?” He paused in thought, and looked toward the door. “I’ve been in here a while, there’s a nice looking park down the block a bit. Mind if we do it there?”
She smiled, “I wouldn’t mind a bit.” He offered his arm politely, she took it, and he held the door for her on the way out.

The found an empty bench facing the fountain and sat down. They had spent the time going to the park discussing small things, and he would occasionally elicit a giggle from her. She crossed her legs and drew a small notebook from her pocket.

“Okay, let’s get started.”
He smiled and waited patiently for her to commence. She launched into a series of questions, pulling information out of him quickly and efficiently. While that was going on, she admired him from behind a mask of neutrality. He had lean, angular features, which displayed a prominent bone structure, which was padded in muscle. The muscle was practical, and came from use as opposed to body building. He had jet black hair, which shined brilliantly when exposed to light. She swooned over him, and as intelligent as he is, she knows he’s never caught on.

After the interview was over, they continued conversing idly about non-important subjects, and they continued in an orbit around the park. The sun began sinking, and showed obvious signs of it getting late. He offered to walk her back to her office, which she accepted without hesitation. On the way back, without warning, John fell. Melody, who was hooked onto his arm, stumbled and knelt over. “John? Are you alrig--”
A sharp pain erupted from the between her shoulder blades and she dropped like a ton of bricks.

She awoke with an unpleasant feeling for the third time today and groaned.

“Where am I?”
She looked to her right and saw John sitting in a meditative stance, eyes closed, breathing flowing in slow, even patterns. He was leaning against the wall.
“John, you okay?”
He smiled, “For the most part. Are you alright?”
She could still feel a burning feeling on her spine. “More or less. Where are we?”
He opened his eyes, “I’m not sure. Large space. Maybe a warehouse or storage room.”

“Oh…”

She tried to brush the hair out from her eyes, but they were tied behind her back, and from what she could tell, his were too. It was rope, like you would find in a gym, and it burned if you tried to wrestle with it.

A metal clanging, like a metal door sliding upward, came from around a small tower of crates and boxes. A refined English voice came from around the corner.

“Hello Captain Nine to Five.”

John maneuvered his hands under his legs and grasped the rope with each of his thumbs. It looked painful, but it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He then bit at the rope a little, very silently, then seemed satisfied and managed to get his hands back behind him.
“Yeah, I’m here. What do you want?”

A man in a tailored suit, top hat, pipe, and monocle came into view. He was the perfect example of the American stereotype for individuals who were “English Proper.” Had any of them been present, they would have assumed he would say “pip pip” or “old chap” at any given minute. Instead, he picked his cane up and slammed it across John’s face.
“You have caused so much trouble for criminals over the past few months. My associates had paid me a great deal of money to have you taken care of.” He paced in a slow circle in front of John, seemingly appraising him. “I don’t understand the difficulty you’ve given my associates, Mr. Nine-to-Five, you’re truly a disappointment to professionals like myself.” To accent this, he slashed at John’s face again with his cane.
John merely watched. “And what do you want from me?”
The man laughed, “Why your death of course. No more, no less. But, I seek amusement.” He tapped his cane onto the cold cement twice, and the lights flickered on suddenly, nearly blinding Melody. John squinted through it, and the Englishman seemed unaffected. He merely turned on one heel, and with the distinct tap of the metal end of his cane to concrete, he walked into a small office near us with a mirror reflecting the imagine of the store room around them. Melody looked at it, probably a one-way mirror. He was watching them.

After twenty or so minutes of Melody pacing and John silently meditating, a few shouts came from across the storeroom, behind yet more crates and boxes. Three very angry looking men appeared from behind the stacks of boxes and zeroed in on John. Melody screamed and backed into a corner. One man saw her, and began to close in on her. The other two surrounded and cornered John. He stood up, his hand behind his back, and got into a simple defensive crouch, balanced oddly because of his hand placement. Melody snarled at the man and lashed into a harsh series of kicks to the groin. They weren’t terribly effective in heels, but the man wasn’t very tough. He was the smallest, and he went down almost immediately. She planted one of the tall heels into the side of his head, and with a hiss of breath, he passed out.

John was not so lucky, his attackers were both large and experienced. They surrounded him from two sides, crouched into generic offensive poses and glared him down. John looked remote, staring at the negative distance between the two men. The man on his right lunged, and the man on his left ducked and attacked at almost the same time. They probably could’ve taken down many a fighter with this pattern, but Captain Nine to Five had learned quite a few things on his many misadventures. He sidestepped the first attacker only barely, leaving less than a inch to spare, and fell into his second attack. The second one, surprised, moved to catch him. Then John hoisted his legs in the air and kicked the first man hard in the side, robbing him of breath and slamming him into the wall. The man groaned the remainder of his air and tumbled gracelessly on the concrete. According to physics, every action has an equal but opposite reaction, and this specific one sent John and the other man onto the ground. The man landed hard on his back, and John landed hard on top of him. John, right on impact, tucked his chin in and rolled backwards over the man, leaving him on the ground in pain. Melody snuck toward the opposite wall, collected the fire extinguisher, and slammed the hard metal end over the guy’s face. He was down like Harry Whittington at the hands of Dick Cheney. The man that got put down by John had gotten up, and was approaching John. With his hands still tied behind him, John managed to sidestep the first two jabs, roll off one major blow, get behind the guy and slam into him hard backwards. The man stumbled, and John turned and did two swift kicks to the kidney, and another, hard one, to the side of the face. This man, too, fell. For good measure, Melody gave him a good thud to the side of the head.

The PA speaker cackled to life. Muted English tones and metallic rattle came out. “Ha ha ha ha ha! Not bad Captain Nine to Five.”

Then another, larger man came forward from behind the crates. This one was thickly built, almost comically, much like a bodybuilder. He swung a tree-trunk of an arm and it slammed into John while he was checking to see if Melody was okay. He slammed into the metal end of the wall with a gasp. Stars invaded his sight, swimming drunkenly in and out of visibility. The big man dispatched Melody just as efficiently, but hardly as hard, she merely slid along the floor. But, having not been exposed to battle, it was almost too much for her. Darkness pulsed at the corner’s of her vision, threatening unconsciousness.

John tried to roll into the momentum, but he was going to the wall straight on, he just thudded hard onto the aluminum siding, leaving a painful looking dent. The large man lumbered toward him, but John managed to get back onto his feet shakily. He danced and skirted every blow the large behemoth managed to throw at him, but he seemed to tire, and the mammoth was attacked relentlessly. Eventually, the berserker slipped and slammed his massive fist into the wall too hard, nearly wedging it there. John took this opportunity to leap on one leg, step onto the man’s hand, and jump again. Mid-air, John improvised an axe-kick, and used his combined force and gravity to wedge his foot into the behemoth’s cheek. The large man fell like a ton of cement. John landed hard on his stomach, and gasped from falling lopsided from the kick. Melody got up and rushed over to John’s side and leaned on him hard, crying slightly. He did his best to comfort her, which wasn’t much considering his and her hands were still tied behind their backs.

Melody looked at the behemoth man, “What happened?”
John looked at him and snorted, “Big men usually have glass jaws. I just got one good hit off and he was out.”

The PA system’s metallic buzz commenced again.

“Very well, Captain Nine to Five. I suppose I’ll have to deal with you myself.”

John pulled at the large man until he was sufficiently out of the way, and when he turned about around, the Englishman had thrown Melody into the corner and was slowly circling John. John jumped and brought his hands in front of him, and circled the Englishman.

No witty banter exchanged, which was unusual for the villains. The Englishman took a feint step, feint lunged left, then spun right and lashed out with his cane. John brought his arms into the air and met the cane on his expensive watch. It shattered and broke, but took the blow’s impact completely. Melody watched, amazed at John’s precision. They exchanged blow-and-block for a few moments, John effortlessly defending the attacks. Then, without warning, the cane made a small clicking sound on the backswing, and then without warning a blade, sharp and bright, slashed at John. John smiled as it happened and aimed to catch the blade with his rope. It didn’t work, of course, because the rope cut, and John’s hands were freed. The cane, now a naked blade, hovered loosely in the Englishman’s hands. John got into a truly decent defensive pose, and waiting for the attacks to begin again.

The Englishman lunged, last minute feigned, and turned for a slash. John sidestepped for the feign, and fell trying to re-adjust for the blade’s path. The took a small cut to the leg. Melody frowned, and didn’t like where this was going.

John recovered and was dancing the deadly dance with the Englishman and doing poorly. He was tired, beaten, and weaponless. Melody stood up and grabbed the loose end of the hose, and the red end of the fire extinguisher. She held the metal hook where it mounts on the wall. The Englishman turned just in time to see the black end of the hose slam into his nose. He retreated back and took a few short slashes at Melody half-heartedly. John sidestepped, and lashed out at the Englishman with a flurry of short jabs and punches. The Englishman turned and delivered a hasty diagonal slash, but John ducked and got the Englishman by the wrist. He jammed his thumbs into the Englishman’s wrists, at a few pressure points, and the Englishman dropped his sword-cane. John kicked it away right as the Englishman body-checked him. John gasped and fell, having had a shoulder just driven into his lungs. The Englishman reached into his back pocket and drew and knife and stood over John.

“Close, but no cigar.”

And he plunged the knife into John’s jugular.

Or, he would have, if Melody hadn’t gripped the black end of the red canister and swung the large, heavy metal end into his back. He stumbled a bit, then turned and stabbed the air a quarter-of-an-inch short of Melody’s face. Melody then grabbed the red end again and landed a crunching blow to the wrong side of his elbow. It made a funny noise, and he yelped. It was a very refined yelp, with an accent. Melody made another attempt, but he caught it and forced it down, wrapping the black end around Melody’s hand, pinning it to his arm. Then she took a punch at him with the hand still holding the metal end of the hose, but he ducked and wrapped it around in an odd fashion, locking her arm mid-air in front of him. She was tied down by her own weapon.

“Ha ha ha! What can you do now, girl?”

So she unloaded a full burst of white foam into his eyes.

He screamed harshly and fell backward, hands clutched over his burning eyes. John wobbled over and searched the man, and found the keys he was looking for. They went into the office and found all of their effects lined neatly on a plastic table.

They found the key out of the storage room, which was an average rental storage space, noted the number, and called the police. Turns out this was a famous hit man from England, and John and Melody were awarded some ten thousand dollar rewards each. They were checked over by the EMTs, which determined there was no major damage, and sent them on their way.

After resting for an hour, they managed to pull together a very late dinner together at a very nice restaurant. John walked her back to her apartment. They spoke softly to one another for a few minutes when they got there. Melody looked up at him,

“You’re leaving soon?”
He frowned, but nodded, “Yes, tomorrow, bright and early.”
She stood on her toes and planted a soft kiss onto his lips. When she drew back, her cheeks were red. “Call me, okay?”
He smiled, “You got it.”
She frowned, “Goodbye, John.”

He turned to go, and she waved vigorously in his wake. Then stepped inside, squealed like a young girl, and skipped to go have a bath.