The Jolt made to strike Jorn’s throat, but Jorn had his shield up in time. The Jolt nearly broke her fingers striking the thing. She cursed and backed off to avoid another sword strike. Kick snarled and barked, but he was not a warrior dog. He was a cuddly dog.
“Why are you doing this?” The Jolt asked, circling Jorn, who had his shield up to his chin and his sword pointed for The Jolt’s head.
“Money,” said Jorn. He jabbed at The Jolt, who swept to the side and smacked the blade away with her wrist before kicking at Jorn’s crotch. She made contact this time, and Jorn doubled over with a grunt, taking cover behind his shield again.
“Cut it out!” said The Jolt. “Everyone here knows me. You kill me, you won’t get away with it. The sword is cute, but a cop with a gun will put you down in seconds.”
“Let me worry about that,” Jorn snarled, still protecting his manhood. The Jolt had an opening to attack, but it would be foolish to make a move against an armed opponent. She needed to get help.
Looking around, she saw a guy filming her and Jorn’s fight. “Hey!” she called. “Call the police! Don’t just fucking film us!”
The guy smirked, freckles spattering his otherwise pasty face. The Jolt recognized him. “Oh, you assho–” she began, before Jorn slashed a gash into her shoulder. Her quick movements barely saved her, but she was still bleeding all over her costume.
“Good Christ!” she shrieked. “Stop this! Kid, this isn’t a fucking prank to this guy. He’s going to kill me and you’re going to be arrested for being accessory to murder. MURDER.” The Jolt ducked under a vertical sword slice.
The Freckled Prankster stopped smiling, and stopped looking at his phone. Jorn was huffing and sweating, taking numerous strikes against The Jolt, who continuously dodged and struck back in sensitive places. She wouldn’t be able to take him out without putting herself in deadly harm, but she was putting him more on the defensive. It was all she could do–delay her own murder.
Another close call, the sword slashing a lock of hair from The Jolt’s pony tail as she ducked. A second too late and she would have lost her head.
“Stop, Jorn,” the Prankster said.
Jorn, confused, looked at the kid. “Original Prankster 69?” he asked. The kid nodded.
“It was just a prank, bro. I didn’t mean for you to kill her.”
Jorn scratched his beard. “What do you think ‘slay’ means?”
“How about ‘smite’?”
The Jolt used this opportunity to dial the police. From now on, she’d always carry a weapon on April 1st.
Day 153’s three random prompt categories were, “Freelancing,” Crossing out,” and, “Warrior.”
Shit. I guess I still didn’t get to the crossing out part. Oh well.