Inktober 2026 - 23 - Dapper

Three young men were walking down the street, chewing gum, sometimes spitting. Swaying their shoulders from side to side as they went, they wore sneakers and baggy clothes, and looked around them with a disturbing smirk which more often than not made people passing them by in the other direction change pavement.

At one point, one of them threw the wrapping for his gum to the ground, without even looking at it. About a metre further down, the soft but distinct sound of metal rubbing against leather stopped them dead in their tracks. The one leading the group looked down in bewilderment at the long and narrow blade that now blocked his way.

“Please, pick it up,” a male voice said.

It came from the owner of the sword, who was sitting at a table on a café’s terrace, his back turned to them. He wasn’t even looking at them yet, because he was still busy silently apologising for the interruption to the person sitting in front of him. The other man did not seem to mind, and simply nodded in response.

“Wot?” asked the youth.

“I think you know very well what I am referring to. Now, if you would please, pick it up. I will only ask up to three times.”

Still seated while they were all standing, the man was nevertheless looking up at them with a very calm face, his weapon still brandished, his arm unwavering.

“We didn’t do nothin’!” another member of the group complained.

With a sigh, the man rose from his chair. With his free hand, he re-buttoned the jacket of his three-piece suit, which he had unbuttoned when he had sat down, and then straightened his trench coat.

“Your friend here did, in fact, very much do something,” he objected, momentarily pointing to the litterer with the tip of his sword.

“Are ya lookin’ for trouble, old man?” the leader of the merry band provoked him, stuck between annoyance and amusement.

“Quite the opposite, actually: it is order, that I seek. Now, unless I am incorrect in assuming you can all count, I wish you would not make me ask again.”

“Ya threatenin’ us or wot?”

“Are they possibly hard of hearing?” the man asked his coffee date, who was observing the scene in silence.

His companion shrugged as he sipped from his cup. 

He should have known, when he had mentioned what he had just seen the delinquents do above his shoulder, that his friend would react. But then again, was it an issue for him? They were in the wrong, and evidently in great need of being taught a lesson. Besides, it was always fun to see him in action.

“We gonna mess you up!”

“Now, now. I haven’t asked you three times, yet.”

That did not seem to matter to the ruffians, who launched at him, one after the other, following their leader. He made quick work of them, dispatching each with a dodge and a single blow, without even wrinkling his shirt or bloodying his steel.