Current contents of Summer Hollow: 3 bundles of 10, 9-foot bamboo poles. 1 post digger. 2 Khukri knives. 1 Worm (complete with 1 pack of cigarettes, 1 lighter, and 1 bottle of water).

The place is looking a little…smaller somehow. And Ram’s rock garden has lost a fair bit of its tidiness. Not that Worm disapproves. The Colonel loves a good mess.

Anyway, he’s got bigger fish to fry. Namely, a nice bit of training.

He’d come up with the idea day before yesterday (and he's been working on it since). He was eating a Slim Jim (extra hot) sitting in his truck. Still parked in the 7-11 parking lot. Fucking dawned on him out of nowhere. Knocked his socks off. Metaphorically: he hadn’t been wearing socks.

And now he’s barefoot on the black earth of the hollow, puffing on a cigarette, surveying his work: a field of bamboo poles, planted in the dirt, 6 feet of their length exposed. It’s a seemingly random pattern, with the distance between each pole varying wildly.

Worm grunts his approval, flicks the cigarette, and walks over to his gear. Unsheathes the two Khukri with a fluid motion born of frequent use. Even intimacy. He straightens, whirling the blades in each hand. Already dancing from foot to foot.

A couple of strikes into the empty air. Quick. One after another. The blades hiss.

Worm focuses on the bamboo poles. Picks out an approximate path through the field. Knows, even as he does it, that he’ll depart from this possible trajectory. It’s all part of the dance.

Two more quick slashes. A deep breath.

Worm starts forward, a couple swift steps, two more, and he’s into the first cluster of poles.

Without hesitation he lashes out, one blade and then the other. Smoothly. In quick succession. His knives are so wickedly sharp that they pass through the wood with only a hint of resistance.

Whirlwind Strike 1

But he’s got to be faster.

Whirlwind Strike 2

No hesitation.

Whirlwind Strike 3

No gap between one strike and the next.

No thought, just his body acting.

Whirlwind Strike 4

Two more lengths of bamboo fall in the wake of his blades. Their severed pieces clunk to the ground.

He dances forward, further into this artificial forest.

He has to be faster.

Whirlwind Strike 5

Faster.

Whirlwind Strike 6

Forward.

Whirlwind Strike 7

Again.

Whirlwind Strike 8

Again.

Whirlwind Strike 9

Faster.

Whirlwind 10

FASTER.

Whirlwind Strike 11

Worm stands on the other side of the hollow. His back to the destruction he’s just wrought. His red skin shines with sweat. His chest rises and falls, deeply, rhythmically.

He turns to behold an army of wooden soldiers, cut down by his hand.

It feels good.

Too good?

Naw. No such thing.

Worm has learned Two Weapons 4: Whirlwind Strike.