Dangerous World {Python}

Men are irksome creatures. Their emotions are simple to read, but a pain in the ass to deal. Demeter’s day had commenced peacefully; The sun warmed her skin, the clouds were drifting by and shielding the sun to temporarily relieve those who desired a break, and her grandparents had enjoyed a balanced breakfast. She walked out of her house with no intentions of seeking clients. She was, after all, in broad daylight. A business like her own could not be run before sunset unless visits were planned ahead of time. She was dressed properly for the weather, her selected outfit consisting of a green tank top, blue jeans, and a pair of boots. Her current mission was simple; Take a brief trip to the market and purchase vitamins.

Mayhem in the form of man always seemed to interrupt her harmless journeys. In the midst of her stroll, a large, horribly familiar man boldly approached her and requested her services. He was large in height and bulk, standing at least two inches above her. The ripples of his muscles were visible beneath his white top, pulsing as if itching to be used. Despite the variety of faces that were presented each day, Demeter was able to match this man’s features to a previous encounter. He was a past client, and a client she had never wanted to meet again. He was one of those clients--the ones who insisted upon smacking her around as if abuse was such a turn on. Demeter didn’t care what this man’s fetish was; she did not take beatings from anybody. Her last experience with him ended with bruised arms and a swollen cheek. There would be no revisiting that state.

Demeter was blunt with her rejection. She claimed that she was booked until the following morning. This only seemed to stir the fire within the man, though; testosterone, perhaps. He tried to bribe her with money, but she knew better than to believe his lies. The man was a cheap ass. His last payment had been meager and pathetic. Her bruises had lasted longer than that money. So, she denied his request and tried to send him on his way. Unfortunately, men who were swayed by physical desires were always persistent. He raised his volume and their bickering escalated. The lack of witnesses only added fuel to this fire. The men simply believed that he could do as he pleased, especially with no wandering eyes threatening him.

She managed to predict it before she spotted it; the man’s stance suddenly changed and the soles of his shoes shifted every so slightly. There was a dangerous gleam flickering in his eyes, like a roaring flame, and he bent his knees: he was prepared to pounce. She was able to move as he lunged, her reflexes kicking in. A giant fist whizzed past her skull, narrowly missing her temple, and she darted forward to move beneath his arm. With her adrenaline pumping and her heart racing wildly, it was easy to ignore the voice that echoed in the emptied District Square. Demeter was poised for an attack when a third figure abruptly came into view. A smaller fist soared through the air in a failed attempt to harm the man. His attack was countered when the man grasped his arm and viciously twisted it behind him. The series of movements granted Demeter a perfect view of the newcomer's face; It was Valentine.

There was no mistaking that head of curly hair. He was the boy she had met--how long ago? Demeter never counted days. But she did remember the experience. He was a cooperative client, quite opposite to the man he was now brawling with, and had received her services in one of her “borrowed” houses. She still recalled the morning afterwards, when she was forced to follow him to his home to collect her pay. He was a nice boy, to put it simply. And now he was playing hero.

Valentine managed to land a blow to the man’s face, distracting him for a moment, but he was quick to recuperate and focus his rage upon her once again. Valentine seemed unable to allow this, and leapt in front of her before either of them could move. It was a bold and somewhat foolish move, defending her in such a way. Demanding the man to leave her be. He merely scoffed and ignored the boy’s orders, still intent upon beating her to a pulp. Demeter would not allow that. She ducked and dashed beneath Valentine’s arms as the man lunged a second time. She swiftly reacted with her foot, landing a delightful blow directly inbetween his legs. Thank goodness for tender spots.

The man released a shriek that reminded her of a dying animal and instantly crumpled to the ground, holding his genitals as if the silly gesture would bring relief. With a slight flip of her golden strands, Demeter propped one hand upon her hip and stared at the man like an inferior.

”Let this be a lesson to you,” she started, her tone stern and cold like an icicle piercing the man’s tough façade. ”Never underestimate your opponent.” With that, she turned around, leaving the man to his whimpering, and walked up to Valentine. She gently grabbed his hand and moved to lead him out of the square. “Let’s go, Valentine.”