The power of words

You know, hitting one with four of us is very wrong. Not fair.

Russians are said to have a heightened sense of justice. Judging by my ancestors and me, it is.

In general, when I saw that three hefty blacks and some kind of homosexual white - hiting with their feet a guy of about twenty, of medium build - I was furious.

It was pointless to call the cops, they were already not very fast, and lately they preferred not to shine at all, so all that remained for me was to act here and now.

I took out an old Soviet sapper shovel from the trunk of my Ford, weighed it on my arm, and then rushed into the fray with a running start. The first black got a kick in the kidney in a jump and dropped out of the fight bent over. I jabbed the homosexual in a huge Adam's apple with a steel handle, which, I believe, greatly spoiled his mood. In any case, falling into a blackout, he looked extremely unhappy.

The second negro almost crushed my head with a fist the size of a good melon, I dodged and slashed the blade of a shovel across his arm. Apparently he injured the tendon, as the fist instantly opened up and the enemy bounced off with a howl ... Leaving me alone with the "Ingram" pointed exactly at the bridge of my nose. Well, with the last black, holding this submachine gun.

"Well, motherfucker, fuck you!" snarled the gorilla-like asshole, pulling the trigger.

In that split second, time stopped.

I could not move, two meters from me hung a bullet that had just left the barrel, in clouds of flame, my counterpart with a fierce expression on his face could only move his eyes.

And the man who was beaten - glowing FLOWED between us. There was no sign of a beating on him.

"I think you were walking home from college, right?" - he turned to the "gorilla" with a weapon - "Dear black girl, future doctor. You have already outlined yourself a hospital for the poor, where you plan to work as long as you have the strength to help others, am I right?"

At the first moment (although I did not feel the flow of time), I thought that the poor fellow went crazy from a particularly strong blow to the head (however, his glow somewhat contradicted my working version). And then the black man began to change.

He dwindled before his eyes. Shriveled... The gorilla's face became the pretty face of a young girl. The submachine gun turned into a pack of books and notebooks. And I did not even notice when they were under her arm. Bullets, of course, no left. Moreover, something started to go wrong with my head. It began to seem to me that there was no black bull! However, here I mentally clenched my teeth and turned on the family stubbornness to the maximum.

The glowing guy turned to me and looked inquisitively into my face, raising one eyebrow in slight surprise, after which an approving smile appeared on his face.

"Okay, citizens, it's time to get up - I understand that you girls managed to slip together on a hill of banana peels that some piggie spilled here. But no one seemed to be seriously hurt. Thank this young man who rushed to help you with a first aid kit but you won't need it. Get up already and go with your classmate - you're having a pajama party at her house tonight, am I right?"

Around this point, I realized that:

a) I can move again.

B) The members of the street gang scattered by me turned into pretty young ladies tossing and turning in a hill of banana peels that naturally came from nowhere.

C) My heritage sapper shovel has turned into a first aid kit.

The last one really upset me.

Shiny guy, meanwhile, stopped glowing and landed on its feet. The "girls" who had been street gangsters a minute ago, did not seem to care about his quirks.

"As for your sapper, it is where it should be. In the trunk. In this reality, you took exactly the first aid kit. In general, I admire your stamina. No, if I set such a goal, I could change your reality at the level consciousness. But you withstood the side change and I didn't even have to take you out of retroactivity." - apparently, an outstanding question mark was written on my face, as the "luminous" laughed sincerely and good-naturedly and slapped me on the shoulder - "So, my heroic friend. Let's take a walk to the nearest cafe, where I will treat you to breakfast, I will explain what is happening and perhaps I can find a way to thank you for your unabashedly selfless bravery."

"Interesting suggestion..." I thoughtfully looked after the departing female students, whu laughing out loud at their little adventure in a bunch of banana peels. In my reality, after my attack, three of them should have remained disabled or at least received severe injuries: my father taught me the "Kadochnikov system" from childhood. the Russian analogue of Krav Maga, as well as Krav Maga, which does not know such a concept as "mercy to the enemy."

"So. I still have to persuade you, right?" - the stranger seemed to be enjoying the whole situation - "Well, let's move on to forbidden tricks!".

She fervently smiled in all 32 gorgeous teeth.

My head began to spin, both from her beauty and from the enchanting smell of her perfume. However, the impenetrable Slavic bad stubbornness has not gone away. This quality, which regulary makes us heroes and often leads us into the abyss, has always been one of the hallmarks of our people.

"Wait a minute! You were... a GUY!" - with a titanic effort of will, I dispersed the "smoke and mirrors" of obsession.

"I was. But actually, I'm a girl. I mean a woman. I mean a goddess. And that "guy-look" - well, it once became a part of me during the Coupage. However - we will still have time to figure it out. Well, then What, your noble and chivalrous heart will allow a beautiful girl to continue to beg you to go with her to a cafe?" She laughed and her laughter sounded like dozens of ringing little bells, each of which sounded so cute and perky that I laughed back.

“Okay, sly, You convinced me. I don’t know what you are, I know only one God (“But you don’t know him at all,” my counterpart muttered under her breath), but you intrigued me. And yes, I can’t deny that you are really beautiful" - I extended my hand, inviting her to take an old-fashioned walk, taking my arm. For this, I was awarded an even more surprised, but even more approving look, after which, I found myself walking into a cafe, "arm in hand" with perhaps the most beautiful and charming girl in my life:

She was very small, I think, something in the region of 5 feet and a little. At the same time, her figure was not the same as that of the Lilliputians, but the figure of a slender and long-legged girl, scaled to a smaller height. A light summer dress did not hide her feminine figure: neither the sharp curves of the hips and waist, nor the lush, but elastic breasts, a little smaller than her head. Lush hair that seemed to be the rays of the sun, and, it seems, slightly glowing with warm, sunlight, framed a pretty face. It had nothing to do with the artificial and cold beauty of modern bitches trying to make themselves an Angelina Jolie face and turning themselves into plastic freaks. Rather, her face resembled a pin-up of the forties. In the shape of a heart, with lush, sensual, but not "cocksuking" lips, huge green eyes ... Noticing that I was frankly studying her, she laughed merrily, gently freed herself from my hands, took two quick steps ahead of me, and scrolled as sensually as possible in front of me, demonstrating a slightly lush, again, heart-shaped, natural and beautiful in its naturality ass. then dived back into my arms.

"Well, do you like what you saw, my hero?" - if not for this disarming smile - I would have thought that she was mocking, but with a smile it looked like she was sincerely proud of her data and really wants to please me.

On this note, we entered the cafe.