If I put enough swear words and British slang in the narration do you reckon people won't realise how lazy this bloody writing is?

Maybe it was the shock of the situation. Maybe it was the beer clouding my judgement. Or maybe some tiny part of my idiot brain really thought this was gonna go well for me. Whatever the reason was, it made me make the incredibly stupid decision of actually following that rampaging bull of a woman through the backstreets of Yokohama.

I’m honestly not sure what I expected to happen. Part of me thought she was just using me for cover so she wouldn’t get recognised, and another part thought she was actually serious about teaching me to fight. What I definitely was not expecting was for her to lead me into a dusty old warehouse and immediately pin my chest to the wall with her foot.

“...y’know, love, I appreciate how forward you’re bein’ but I’m really not into all that domination shit.”

“Shut it. How did you really see through my disguise? Start talking.”

“Do you want me to shut it, or do you want me to start talking? You send some proper mixed messages sometimes.”

“Shut it with the smartass comments and start talking when I ask you questions.”

“See, now we’re getting somewhere. See what happens when you communicate properly?”

That particular remark earned me the honour of her slightly retracting her leg and kicking me in the chest. My ribs felt like they were gonna shatter. It was completely worth it.

“I thought I said no smartass comments,” she said, still pinning me to the wall with her absurdly muscular legs.

“Alright, love, I get it, just let me bloody breathe, will ya?” I said, and after a few seconds of staring she lowered her leg. Christ, this bint has problems. “Anyway, I already told you, didn't I? You made it proper obvious with your little disguise.”

“That’s a load of rubbish. My mask and shades are covering my face, and my coat is covering my body. You shouldn’t have been able to see that it’s me.”

“Only numpty who would wear all that shite in the middle of the night is one who wants to hide. And one who ain’t very good at it. A bird with CTE and a habit for dodging interviews seems like the obvious choice, dunnit?”

She stared at me a little more, before letting out a right proper sigh and taking off the mask and shades.

“I didn’t think about that. You must be someone very cunning to figure all of that out.”

“Love, I’m four beers deep and a college dropout, I just have a bloody brain in me ‘ead.”

“Are you implying that I’m stupid?”

“Your career is getting punched in the face repeatedly. It’d be weird if you weren’t at least a bit dim.”

“Do you have an actual death wish?”

“Depends on the time of day.”

“I think I hate you.”

“Well at least you’re a good judge of character.” Fuck me, I wish I’d taken an Asahi to go. Would have been a mad line to crack one open to. Missed opportunity, that. “You wanna keep away from pryin’ eyes? You gotta blend in, not stand out. You want people to look at you think nothin’ at all. At the moment they look at you and think ‘who’s the muppet in the ruddy great trench coat?’”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you should dress like a normal human feckin’ being, you pillock.”

“But if I wear normal clothes I’ll be recognised.”

“Oh please, how perceptive do you think the average bloke on the street is? Change up your hair, wear casual clothes, chuck on some fake glasses, not a soul’s gonna recognise ya.”

She tilted her head at me in confusion, like a dog, though with probably less thought in her head.

“You really think so?”

“It’ll work better than dressing up with a big sign over your head that sees ‘I’m suspicious, please stare at me,’ at least.”

“But I never did that?”

“...christ, there is not a lot rattling around in that dome, is there?”

“What? What dome? The hell are you talking about?”

“Wondering if it’s possible for someone’s skull to be solid all the way through.”

“I… don’t get it.”

“I know.” This girl may have been a bloody lunatic but there was definitely some entertainment value there.

Though honestly it was kinda of a shame. Behind the vacant expression and the words that barely constituted a coherent thought, she was actually quite the beaut. Pretty face, long black hair, good muscle. If there was half a brain in her head she’d be a proper bombshell.

‘Course, at the moment she’s more like a guided missile, and the target is my bloody patience, but that doesn’t make her face any less pretty. Only problem is that the face keeps talking.

“Hmm… I don’t think casual clothes would go well with my secret identity though,” she said, stupidly.

“Secret identity? What are you, Batman?”

“No, it’s to keep my real identity under wraps, duh. Best way to do that is to become someone else, right?”

“...sure. And what exactly is the name of this secret identity?”

“...” she looked away awkwardly and twiddled with her hair. It would have been cute on someone with an IQ above room temperature. Celsius. “It- It’s… Kamen…”

“...the ingenious name… of your secret identity… that’s supposed to avoid raising suspicion… is ‘mask?’”

“I- uh- I meant… Carmen! Yeah, Carmen, that was it!”

“Nice try, love, you just stuck an ‘r’ in the middle of it. And the hell kind of name is ‘Car Men’ anyway? You a bloody transformer?”

“Why are you such an arse?”

“Makes for an easy character arc when I start being vaguely nice in the second half of the story.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I’ll keep me mouth shut about your… uh… ‘disguise,’ so you can just forget about this little misadventure, yeah?” I turned towards the door was came in from, but was aggressively tugged backwards by the scruff of me neck. Cheers for that, love.

“Where are you going, idiot?” she asked, before flicking a couple switches on the wall. “Didn’t I say I was gonna teach you to fight?”

The lights at the top of the warehouse flicked on, and I could finally see the rest of the bloody place. It was mostly empty, looked totally abandoned. Except for one thing standing in the middle. A caged octagon.

Christ… it’s gonna be a long night, innit?