We had walked for almost five minutes when the beginning of my end took place.
“Master Johnson.” Evonne said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I could tell by his tone that he was calling a problem to my attention and I turned to him. “What’s up, Mitch?”
He nodded ahead of me and I glanced back the direction we‘d been walking, scanning the moving crowd. That’s when I first saw her. Maybe it was because she was the only person in the crowd who seemed to be watching us. Or it could have been that she was paler than most of the tanned citizens. Her jet black hair, perhaps?
But I’m thinking it was mostly because she was wearing a black leather jumpsuit with high heeled boots that reached her knees. She was also walking straight toward us.
Great. Some Dark Angel wanna-be come to call on the time-traveling ba-jillionaire.
“What should we do, Master Johnson?”
Like I said before- we almost died that day. Mostly because I, yes I just said that, was too stupid not to see danger when it was swaying up to me on four-inch heels.
“Let’s see what the broad wants, I guess, Mitch.” Then, with my voice dropped, “Just keep your guard up.”
See? I guess I wasn’t totally stupid back then.
When the woman came to a stop in front of us I could see she was in her late twenties and probably had been divorced a few times, already. Either that or her face just had a natural scowl that told all that she was hard to do business with. After she had stopped in front of us and had scowled at us for almost ten seconds, I decided to break the ice.
“Nice suit, toots. Except that Cat-Woman called and said she wants it back.”
Okay. Maybe I could have been a tad nicer on the first meeting. But after finding out her motives, I’m extremely glad that I wasn’t. At least not for a while…
She smiled, and I must confess, she was pretty hot. In a kind of looks-like-she-could-kill-you-with-a-phone-cord kind of way. I had instant visions of this and had to fight the involuntary urge to take a step back from the menacing woman.
“So how has Rome treated you thus far, Mr. Johnson? Been to the arena?” She asked with an odd amount of malice and calm.
“Glad to see you know how to refer to your betters. Mitch, get a load of this chic. ‘Mr. Johnson’. I love it.” I chuckled, pointing at the woman while elbowing my partner in time. Ha. See my little joke there? Sometimes I just crack myself up…
The woman seemed not the least bit bothered by my sarcasm, which worried me some, I must confess. Mainly because I knew that probably only a robot could take my wit. That’s a little Jericho tip for you guys. You might want to log that away for future reference.
Ha. Future reference. Get it? No? Just never mind…
“I can see you find yourself very clever,” she stated consulting her… Oh, God. She was wearing a glove just like mine! Wait, no. Upon closer inspection, which was just me narrowing my eyes at it while my mouth gaped open like a complete retard, I could see that it was somewhat different.
“Nice piece, lady.” I said conversationally, “Mind telling daddy where you got that?”
She looked up from her glove screen long enough to give me a “you did not just say that to me” look before rolling her eyes and flicking them back to her screen. “God, you’re just full of those, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “You have no idea.” So she wasn’t a robot after all. Jericho, one. Creepy chic, zero.
In case you have forgotten--I. Am. Awesome.
Then I suddenly felt like I was being pulled over by some female time cop and it really got under my skin. I’m not going to give her a point because her very presence annoying me didn’t count on the game of wit. At least that’s what I still tell myself to this day.
“So, lady, how long is this going to take?” I said in a bored tone. I could feel Mitch behind me coiled tight, ready for anything and I was glad he was there.
“Which part?” She asked, closing out whatever she was leafing through on her glove and looking at me, her head cocked a little to the side. “The ‘getting back the glove you stole’ part, or the ‘kicking your millionaire butt’ part?”
“That’s billionaire, babe,” I said, glancing around. “And if that’s all you have to offer I think I’ll be on my way. Tootles.” I tried to step past her but she got in my way again and held up her gloved hand. Hey, left handed glove. Cool.
“I don’t think you understand exactly what I’m saying to you.” She began, “Let me try this again.” I heard the unholy hum emanating from her glove and knew that she had an awesome mega hotshot, too. And just when I was beginning to feel so special…
“I was ordered to retrieve the glove from you at any cost. Your life means nothing.”
Okay, guys. I know that you don’t want to believe that awesome Jericho is guilty of stealing some Twenty-Second century technology and that this chic is really the good guy trying to take back what was rightfully hers. Emphasis on the word was. But all you can know at the moment is this: I didn’t steal it.
“Hey!” I said, looking super excited and beaming at her while holding up a gloved finger. “Here’s an idea...”
Then she was out cold on the cobblestones. What? She, like, threatened my life, dude. You think I have a problem punching some psycho-chic’s lights out after she basically says she’s going to kill me? Not hardly.
“Times up, Mitch.” I said sadly, while stepping over psycho-chic’s crumpled body, “I hear the windy city calling our names.”