“Something I can do for you boys?”

The two in the back hopped out as the driver put the van in park and stepped out, moving around the hood to join his friends. They all looked the same, with their black biker jackets covered in spikes and satanic patches. Each had on a different concert T-shirt proudly proclaiming their lack of Christian ethics, and each wore too tight black jeans with steel-toed stomper boots. They also wore the same slightly pointed goatee and narrow mustache. It was hard to tell them apart. Individualism gone astray.

“Eenie, Meenie, and Meinie.” I counted them out. “Where’s Moe?”

Their only response was to smile; a trinity of yellowed grins, which would have made any selfrespecting dentist cringe. Before I could say anything else, the driver pulled a boot knife out and took a step toward me, waving the blade. His friends retrieved their weapons from inside the back of the van. The first pulled out a short sword, the second a small spear. They joined the first in his advance.

It was my turn to laugh. “C’mon guys, you really want to do this? Trust me when I say Satan isn’t going to be impressed.”

Eenie, the driver, responded with violence. He lunged in and slashed at my chest. Instinct took over. I whipped my arm up to block the shot, catching the blade flush on my forearm as I prepared my counter. I felt the blade bite into my flesh. I had expected that. What I didn’t expect was how much it hurt. I heard a sizzle as the knife cut into me. A searing pain shot up the length of my arm, all the way to my shoulder. Flashes of light danced before my eyes. I stumbled back, clutching my arm as the driver stood there laughing. I hadn’t paid any mind to the weapon when he’d waved it in my face, but now all of my attention was focused on it. It was no ordinary knife. Carved down the length of the blade were runes, symbols of power. I looked at the other weapons and they too, had runes set into them. I realized this wasn’t just some random act of violence. It was a hit.