Freelance Warrior


That was all Jorn needed to read. He typed up a quick proposal–the usual fare:

I am Jorn. I have slain many foes. Have beaten many enemies and fools. Please examine my elance profile for more details. I will smite your foe.

– Jorn

Soon, Jorn received an acceptance reply. He nodded with satisfaction to his computer screen, reached for his sword and shield, which were (as always) in arm’s reach, fitted himself along with his furs and leathers, and made his way to the bus stop.

The woman at the bus stop next to him decided to call a cab instead. The bus driver considered closing the door and taking off. Jorn counted the coins in his leather pouch–ten, thirty-five, one thirty-five… until he had enough. A young man moved to another seat, even though the seat next to him was open. Jorn took the two now-open spots.

Jorn looked at his list. Then he looked out the window to follow the street signs. The bus driver kept looking at him in the rearview. Jorn scratched his lengthy beard. He was uncomfortable; he placed his shield and sword on the seat next to him.

Soon, he arrived at Hooper Street. He pulled the bus string and it broke, but the bus driver knew what Jorn wanted, and he let Jorn off on Hooper Street. Jorn picked up his gear and stepped off the bus. The door snapped shut the moment he cleared it, and the bus driver took off.

The sun was in the middle of the sky. All Jorn had to do was wait.

A minute later, The Jolt came jogging around the corner. When she spotted Jorn, she stopped and stared. Kick, her dog, growled at Jorn.

“I’m going to assume that sword isn’t real,” said The Jolt.

“Yes,” said Jorn, unsheathing his shining blade, “it is just pretend.”

And he took a great swinging strike at The Jolt, who barely ducked in time to avoid being beheaded.

A fight. A real fight. The Jolt always outwitted her enemies. She wasn’t superhuman, despite her costume. She was a jogger who made citizens arrests. And here was a Viking wannabe with a real-ass sword trying to kill her. All her krav maga wouldn’t save her. But she didn’t have much choice now.

The Jolt dodged another sword strike and moved in for an attack of her own.



Day 152’s three random prompt categories were, “Freelancing,” Crossing out,” and, “Warrior.”

I’m going to continue this one tomorrow. It’s been a while since we’ve had a two (or three) parter. And besides, I didn’t get to any crossing out yet…

– H.

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