The Blasphemer Read Online Free

would.
    Maya waited for the laughter to die down before speaking up, ‘Zoe, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your discipline?’
    ‘Tae kwon do.’
    ‘And your rank?’
    ‘Second dan .’
    ‘Right. So you can handle yourself—you can kick fast, and you can kick hard.’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Do you want to put that to the test?’
    ‘Hell, yeah.’
    The group parted and Zoe stepped forward, bold as a peacock. Maya took hold of the whistle hanging from her neck and raised it to her lips. She blew it long and hard, its shrill blast echoing throughout the hall.
    A door at the other end opened. A man emerged, wrapped up in safety pads and wearing an enormous silver helmet that masked his face. He looked like a lumbering alien as he moved towards them, shifting his weight from side to side.
    Zoe stared as the man stopped in front of her, stretching his gloved hands, his joints popping. The students murmured among themselves.
    Maya clapped to get their attention. ‘Girls, meet Bulletman. You can think of him as being a crash-test dummy on steroids. The rules are simple. Zoe? Pay attention, Zoe. You’re going to try and get past him. And Bulletman? Well, he’s going to try and block you. You can hit him as hard as you want, anywhere you want. Head, groin, legs, whatever—it’s all fair game. And don’t you worry about the helmet. It’s padded with four layers. You won’t hurt yourself by attacking it. Now, bear in mind, Bulletman won’t be hitting back, but he will be pushing. He’ll be pushing hard. Any questions?’
    Zoe raised her hand. ‘Miss Raines? Don’t I get to wear, like, protective gear?’
    Maya smiled. ‘Protective gear is for wimps like Bulletman, not a tough cookie like you. Besides, the floor is padded. That’s all you really need. Cool?’
    ‘Oh. Cool.’ Zoe entered a sparring stance, arms raised, fists clenched as she bounced up and down, puffing fiercely.
    A bad start, Maya knew. The bouncing would only compromise her centre of gravity, while the puffing would over-pressurise her blood, wrecking all muscle control. The worst possible combination.
    Maya blew the whistle, and Bulletman rushed Zoe with all the force of a freight train, screaming, ‘You think you can get past me, bitch? You think you can? I’m going to beat the shit out of you! I’m going to break your pretty face!’
    Zoe spun and kicked, but it was too weak, too hasty, and she missed, and Bulletman walloped into her, shoving her back, and she drifted to the left, gasping, punching— one, two, three —but they were glancing blows, feeble, ineffective, and Bulletman crashed into her once more, and this time she drifted to the right, bouncing, kicking— one, two —but Bulletman gave her no room, and he powered his head into her, destroying her centre of gravity, and suddenly she was retreating, staggering, tripping, no more conviction, no more technique, her eyes dazed, her face pinched, her body looking like a puppet flailing on invisible strings as Bulletman screamed and pushed, screamed and pushed, screamed and pushed, and she finally went down, scrambling against the wall, squeezing herself into a pitiful ball, Bulletman hovering over her, banging his fists, growling.
    Maya checked her watch. Ten seconds. Yes, things had gone far enough. She blew the whistle.
    Bulletman ceased his assault and stepped away. Slowly, Zoe uncurled herself, her chest heaving, her face red as a cherry. The salty smell of sweat hung thick in the air. The smell of fear.
    No one moved.
    No one spoke.
    Eventually, Bulletman reached for Zoe and helped her to her feet.
    Maya allowed the silence to linger for a bit before breaking it, ‘What you’ve just seen is called the adrenalin dump. Let me just say that again: adrenalin dump. Your heart races. Your vision tunnels. You start to shake. You can’t breathe. You lose fine motor control. Your reflexes go wonky. Time slows down. You lose focus. Your black belt doesn’t help you. You forget all