Thwack - thwack - thwack! went the nunchucks in the self-styled superhero's skilled hands.
Snap crackle pop! went the bones in his opponents arms and wrists.
"Son of a bitch!" Tommy shrieked. "Get him off me! Get him off me!" After a moment several watching students moved, about to come to his aid.
"I'd advise against it," cautioned a matter of fact Ham Thorndyke. Deftly, he avoided soiling his white Armani suit when several splatters of flying blood came his way by stepping smoothly out of range of the spreading hemoglobin. Chuckling, he pointed to the maniacally smiling Badger and his painfully screaming prey.
"Observe yon fray and it's ... unfortunate ... result. The decision, of course, is yours. But ... Are you really that fond of your master?" A powerful blow sent Tommy Lewinsky whimpering to the floor. Pale and shaken, the students all stepped back on the instant. Domenic Lewinsky was the only one foolish enough to rush to his brothers side, offering a flying tackle that the Badger deftly evaded by a good margin. Spinning nunchucks struck the luckless Domenic again and again as he hit the matted floor hard, gasping for breath.
"Dooooooom ... " wailed Tommy, sailing across the room. Politely, Ham once more stepped fastidiously to the side to avoid his hurtling, bleeding body.
"And another one bites the dust," sang the Badger, his off key voice not missing a note, however, as he kicked both Lewinsky brothers sharply in the gonads, one after the other. "And another one's gone... and another one's gone! Another one bites the dust!" Daisy frowned and looked accusingly at Hammond.
"Queen?" she hissed. "You let him listen to Queen?" Ham shrugged.
"Anything is preferable to Frank Sinatra, dear lady, or - " he shuddered delicately, " ... Elvis Presley. Don't you agree?" Daisy considered her options for a moment.
"Point," she conceded, reluctantly. "But ... why Queen? Just as a matter of curiosity?" Ham reached out his Gucci shod foot and prodded one of the now unmoving Lewinsky brothers. Just which one was rather hard to tell at the moment.
"Max's idea, actually," Ham said. "I believe he rather liked Freddy Mercury. Said something about him being a 'proper role model'."
"Max would," replied a grim Daisy, making a face.
Ignoring his assistant and smiling in feral glee, Ham Thorndyke turned to the nervous, milling students who had accompanied the Lewinsky brothers on their ill fated venture of harassment. With an air of calm indifference, he flicked imaginary dust from the lapels of his white Armani suit, then pointed to the Badger, still whacking away at the prone sibling duo of Tommy and Domenic, who were trying vainly now to crawl away.
"Observe yon bad ass martial artist," instructed Ham, "who has forgotten more ways to kick butt than you will ever know." All eyes followed him as he pointed to the not quite still feebly struggling Lewinsky brothers. "Observe yon humiliated ex-martial artists." Dry throats worked, swallowing hard. "The question you need all ask yourselves," opined Hammond, "must be this: Is it worth the pain?"
"Kreegah!" shouted the Badger, tossing the two brothers through the storefront in an explosion of shattering plate glass. "Bundolo!"
Daisy Fields-Sykes scrambled prudently out of the way, lest she be crushed in the ensuing rush of student martial artists pushing and shoving their panicked way out the door.
Nor, she noted, did they pause to retrieve their Masters in their hurried flight to scatter to the four winds. Frowning, the put upon woman glared at Ham.
"Yes, I let him read Edgar Rice Burroughs," the Welch Druid hastened to defend himself from the incipient, expected attack. "There's nothing wrong with Edgar Rice Burroughs," he affirmed stoutly. "By the Sacred Oak, they're children's books!" Daisy's eyes narrowed pugnaciously.
"Just as long as it isn't Willaim Burroughs," she was firm. "Or Hunter S. Thompson. I draw the line there, Ham! That kind of grief, we don't need."
"Indeed," agreed the ancient chaos maker, nodding his glistening bald head. "'Fear and Loathing in Barneveld'?" he pondered. "'The Naked Martial Artist'? I think not."
"Hey!" called The Badger, "it's lunch time!" Hammond paled and Daisy grinned a remarkably toothy and predatory grin. "Where's the beef?" demanded the Badger and the little weather wizard groaned, epicure that he was.
"Mickey D's here we come!" returned Daisy with some enthusiasm, linking her arm with the Badger's. More enthusiasm perhaps, than that den of dubious palliative delights deserved.
"Hold the pickles, hold the lettuce, special orders don't upset us .. " sang the two lovers as Norbert Sykes thoughtfully carried his wife over the threshold of jagged and broken glass that had once been the storefront window of a prospering dojo.
Ham Thorndyke contemplated two all beef patties, pickles, onions, with special sauce on a sesame seed bun, blanched visibly, buried his head in his hands, and almost wept.
"All right you honkers!" yelled the Badger through cupped hands at the small flock of Canadian geese circling purposefully overhead. "On my mark wheel to the left in attack formation. No, no, no! You there on the right wing! Close in, tighten up that formation! You're a disgrace to your feathers! A disgrace to the 415th Squadron of the Fighting Canadian Honkers!" Squawking loudly, the offending goose barely avoided a midair collision with his flockmate flying to the right. On the ground, The Badger began pacing in a tight circle with military precision, hands behind his back, riding crop clutched firmly in one hand.
"All right you sons of rotten eggs," he growled, "listen up! We're goin' after them! We're gonna harass the enemy! We're gonna harass them on the ground, we're gonna harass them in the air, we're gonna harass them wherever we find them, understand? We're gonna make'm bleed! We're gonna go through them like crap through a goose ... " Briefly, Norbert paused and reflected. "Oh. That's right. You are geese ... "
"I see that we've been basking in the glories of the film makers art once more," observed a sardonic Ham Thorndyke with one upswept eyebrow to mark his cynicism. "'Patton', isn't it?"
"I told you not to buy the damned movie," Daisy reminded him. Ham's long suffering sigh was a work of art after it's kind.
"So you did, madam, so you did ..."
"Now this is what we're gonna do," The Badger began, still addressing his pinioned troops.
Watching him pace and gesticulate forcefully Daisy frowned, turning to Ham.
"You don't really think he can talk - ?"
"I think," chortled the weather wizard, "that those Yuppie Dragon Twins, the Lewinsky Brothers, whilst on their way out of town, had better keep a sharp eye out for low flying geese." From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Badger, squatting and straining in demonstration of his next orders as the geese circled watchfully overhead. Ham's grin was positively demonic this time. "But not before they cover their heads against certain - shall we say - odoriferous gifts falling from the sky?" he concluded.
"That's it!" cried the Badger "Now to the left!"
Overhead, the flock of geese tightened themselves into a perfect V formation and wheeled gracefully to the left. Wide eyed, Daisy Fields-Sykes shook her head ruefully.
"How does he do that?"
"Try not to dwell on it overmuch, my dear," counciled Ham.