Mike & Karen Ch. 33

The campus, King's College Circle, a Wednesday in April, 1987...

A delivery truck pulled around the bending road, and the only unusual thing about that was the hour. It was still early in the day, and most students who took note of such things knew that deliveries were most often in the afternoon. The Purolator vehicle rolled to a stop and one of the drivers got out and went to the back, opening the door. Meanwhile, the other man hopped out and approached a small group of students, a clipboard in his hand.

"We've got an unusual delivery for someone named DeBourne," he said, addressing them now.

"That's the only kind of delivery you could have for DeBourne," Janet quipped, smirking as she sat casually on the bench, her little radio playing a Madonna song that was popular that week.

"I'll take your word for it," the man said rather dryly. "Any idea where he can be found? We have instructions to deliver this to him personally, not just drop it off."

Karen looked around for a moment and then pointed at some other locale on the wide-open space. "There he is. Should we call him for you?"

"HEY, MONGO!" Lisa shouted, taking matters into her own hands as she cupped them around her mouth. "Y'GOT A DELIVERY!"

Her shout got the attention of some huge young man on the other side of the green, talking with some faculty members. He turned his head slowly and gazed at the across the space, his laser-blue eyes locking on Lisa's. Despite having been the one to call him, she squeaked in panic and hid behind the much taller Karen.

Mike apologized and excused himself from the professors he'd been speaking to, striding across the grass. The delivery man stared rather dumbly (which was fair, as most of the girls nearby were as well) as the titan student approached.

He was easily a head and shoulders taller than just about everyone around him, his build decidedly sculpted and muscular. Those penetrating blue eyes were framed by a mane of golden blond hair that curled around his head in the spring breeze. He was wearing faded jeans that stretched dangerously over his massive thighs, and a tee that advertised Deep Purple. The shirt also seemed moments away from exploding.

"You rang, Heyman?" the man apparently named DeBourne boomed, stopping in front of them and towering over those assembled. Most of the women present were staring at him rather dreamily, the exceptions being the tiny redhead (she was still hiding) and the tall, statuesque girl with the shining bronze hair and golden eyes, who seemed to be doing her best not to stare. "You said I got a delivery?"

"From these fine gentlemen, Aslan," Karen replied, indicating the deliveryman. Said deliveryman suddenly felt rather exposed, and hoped this gargantua didn't eat him.

Mike fixed his gaze on the man now. "I wasn't expecting anything. What do you have for me?"

"We don't actually know," the man confessed. "We've brought it down from Kapuskasing. Would you sign for and receive it, please?"

Mike nodded and everyone else watched as he accompanied the deliveryman to the back of his truck. They talked quietly with him for some moments, and Mike's eyes went wide.

"What the Hell?" those nearby all heard him say in wonder.

***

Mike & Karen

Disclaimer: All characters are 18 years of age or older while actively engaging in sexual activity. This story is a prequel/sequel (sprequel?) to my other work, Alex & Alexa. As always, many thanks and gratuitous panty shots from Freja and Jeanie to my long-suffering editor and beta-reader for their assistance in polishing up and improving this work. Reviews are welcome; flames will be snickered at and deleted with extreme prejudice. Enjoy!

Please Note: There are incest themes with a secondary couple in this story. Just a forewarning.

Chapter XXXIII- It's Just The Pregame Show

"I can't believe it," Mike said in quiet wonder as he pulled out an elongated (and very large) cardboard box. While he was staring at it in his hands, the two deliverymen were busy pulling out other, more normal-sized boxes that were labeled as containing game meats in them.

"Gotta be more of that pheasant and venison his parents keep sending down," Mona mused. "The student assistance meals're gonna be eating well this month."

"I've gotta know what's in that big box he's holding," Janet said, breaking ranks and walking up to him. "So, what's in there? A box that big, it's gotta be the ashes of one of your relatives."

Mike fixed her with a look for a moment before Karen chided Janet on her manners. Everyone else approached now, nearly twenty students gathering around. Mike was still staring at the box he was holding.

"Well, open it," Karen said finally, not used to seeing DeBourne so dumbfounded. "Don't keep everyone in suspense. Is it too personal to open in public?"

"Oh. No, no..." Mike said, snapping himself out of his trance before looking at the deliverymen for a moment. "I'm gonna open this, make sure it is what I think it is, and then sign."

"That's fine by us," the driver said. "I'm kinda curious myself, it weighs a ton."

"Might be a whole DeBourne body, then," Janet whispered to Mona, who giggled.

Mike knelt and put down the long box on the grass, everyone giving him room. He pulled a Swiss army knife with a billion attachments out of his jeans pocket and began slicing the packing tape. Janet had commented on occasion that only Mike could carry a knife that big, and it probably had every possible fixture inside it, for every task up to and including the killing of grizzly bears. She just thought it was a pity there was no vibrating attachment.

He worked his way around the edges diligently; just in case he needed to return the item, he didn't want to make a mess. He was considerate that way. Once he'd cut through the tape, he pulled off one entire side of the cardboard box, and then shifted the stuffing inside and exposed the item that had been delivered to him.

"DeBourne, what is that?" Karen asked in a quiet voice of disbelief.

Everyone backed up rather hastily (Lisa with a squeak) as Mike reached in and took hold of the object, pulling it out of the container. As he stood, he held it up over his head, checking something about it. Everyone around him gasped, and even other people nearby stopped and stared at the sight.

He was holding some giant weapon in his hand, and the huge blade gleamed brightly in the morning sun. The pole or haft of the weapon was made of strong, dark wood bound in metal. Where the haft ended, the brass mount gleamed, carved to look like Chinese dragon.

Arom the dragon's open mouth emanated and flared out the steel blade everyone was scared of.

It was a wide, curved thing, with a sharp edge and a fine point, and another smaller knife-like blade just above the main one. Long, sinuous dragons were etched into the faces of both sides of the blade. At the other end of the haft, a heavy metal spiked butt counterbalanced the business end of the weapon. A red feathered tassel hung from the smaller blade.

"It's my guandao," Mike said in wonder, bringing the weapon back down and staring at it again. It was exactly how he remembered it. "I guess Master Pan sent it down to me."

"Who's Master Pan?" Lisa asked as she dared to get closer and gaze at the weapon curiously.

"He's my sifu back home," Mike explained, holding the guandao with one hand while turning and signing the delivery voucher the driver was holding steady for him. "He was one of the great living grandmasters back in China, but he escaped during the Cultural Revolution. Now he lives in a small complex he built for himself outside of my hometown, and he teaches people he feels are worthy."

"And you were one of them?" Janet mused, smirking. "I guess you hid your sense of humour from him, eh?"

"I wonder why it got sent down," Mike pondered as her turned the halberd slowly in his grip.

"There's a note in here," Lisa said, having squatted down and rooted through the box for other clues. She held up a card. "But it's in Chinese, so I don't have any clue what it says."

Mike took the card and read it, holding the guandao at his side in his free hand. The girls already knew he spoke and read Mandarin. He seemed occupied, so Janet and Mona looked at one another, nodded, and then stepped in and put their hands on the haft, taking the weapon away from him together while his attention was on the note. Mike released it absently.

"OOOOFFFFFFF!" they both yelped and wheezed as they tumbled backward, now pinned beneath the thing.

"Will you two be careful with that?" Mike chided, not looking and still reading. "It's not a toy."

"No... shit... Mongo..." Janet grunted while Karen shook her head and then squatted to help lift the massive weapon off her idiot friends. "Jeeee-zus, that thing weighs a ton!" Janet groused.

"A good thirty-five kilograms, maybe," Mike said, nodding as he read. "There's a solid metal tang that runs the length of the haft, plus the binding, the blade and the counterweight."

"Y'might've warned us, you big jerk," Mona groused, picking herself up off the ground while Karen strained to hold the weapon in both hands in front of her thighs. She was easily the strongest of the girls, but this thing was a challenge.

"I was occupied, woman, and felt no inclination to keep you and Remington from doing something dopey, I admit it," Mike said finally, nodding to the deliverymen and then turning his attention back toward his friends. He reached down and took the guandao from Karen, who exhaled as she was freed from its weight. It annoyed her, though, about how easily DeBourne did it with one hand. He could be very annoying that way. DeBourne annoyed her a lot of ways, actually.

"So what did the note say?" Lisa asked.

"Oh, just how he thought it was best being kept with me, so that I could continue my practice with it," Mike said, looking at the note casually. "Normally, he insisted on having it secure in one of his weapon racks, but if he wants me to hold on to it, that means the cheap old lecher probably has a new, young, and pretty assistant and girlfriend he wants to make room for."

"So he just sent the can opener of doom to you," Janet said flatly, picking herself up off the ground and dusting herself off. "What're you supposed to do with it?"'

"Practice, I guess," Mike said with a shrug. "I haven't been able to unless I visit home, so it's probably not a bad thing. Better inform the powers that be, though, since this thing can cut a whole cow in half."

"How does that thing even work, DeBourne?" Mona asked, still looking at the huge thing. "Show us."

"Back up," Mike instructed everyone. Not surprisingly, everyone gathered around complied, stepping back. Karen looked around at how far they'd gone, then looked at the guandao as Mike rested the butt on the grass, holding it at his side. She did the calculations in her head as she measured- it was at least twenty centimeters taller than he was.

"Everybody move back five more feet," she called out. Mike nodded in approval. All those present trusted her math and stepped back again. The radius around Mike was at least fifteen feet now. He stood quietly, with his head slightly lowered and his eyes closed, one of his hands holding the giant weapon. More and more people were starting to gather, but they all quite willingly stayed far away.

Karen could see DeBourne's muscles tensing and flexing, even if he looked relaxed to everyone else. It was absolutely enthralling to watch. Not that she would admit it to anyone. She looked around and could see people watching from the windows in buildings nearby. Chances were that nobody had seen anything like this before on campus.

Mike took a breath and raised his hand over his head, the weapon now horizontal on the flat of his palm. As he sank into a low (at least for Mike) front-braced stance, he turned the blade slowly, almost a slow-motion helicopter motion in the flat of his hand. His eyes had opened, and those laser-blue orbs, normally full of jovial humour, were now flashing with an intensity now that few of those present had ever seen.

"I lied, people," Karen called out loud enough to be heard, but also in a measured tone that wouldn't interfere with DeBourne's concentration. "Back up this much again."

Everyone did, which was just as well, because DeBourne seemed to explode into a whirlwind of motion, spinning the heavy blade around himself at various degrees and angles, using two hands to start a frightening momentum, but then managing to control it with just one when called for. The blade was a flashing gleam in the sun, the red tassel a blur.

Lisa squeaked in fright and hid behind Karen.

He hadn't been kidding; some of the vertical and horizontal slashes he performed looked like they would bisect a Holstein bull. The audience could hear the air hissing around the blade, the sound of the tassel whipping behind it, his strength and control over the thing terrifying.

It might have been thirty seconds, it might have been thirty minutes. But Karen found she'd been holding her breath during the demonstration and almost jolted back to reality as Mike thumped the butt of the massive weapon into the earth and took up some traditional pose that no doubt ended the form he'd just displayed.

There were gasps of delight and much cheering once he'd finished, and even Karen applauded while Mike exhaled deeply and bowed his head. Karen only wished she'd caught the demonstration on video.

"That was amazing, Mongo," Janet gushed as she and Mona hurried up and hugged themselves to him. Lisa followed, although she seemed considerably more wary, just in case he let go of the giant can opener by mistake and it fell over and bifurcated her. "You'll lug that thing around and pretend to be my bodyguard, right?"

"I doubt the university considers your personal safety that big a priority, Remington," Mike replied, making her giggle. "It'll be hard enough to get the powers that be to allow me to keep it on campus, I'm sure. Some of 'em are paranoid enough about the blunted foils the fencing team practices with."

"I can no doubt impress upon my parents the need to store it on your behalf should the university prove reticent, DeBourne," Karen said now, walking up to him. Dozens more people were now closing in, since the demonstration was over. "I must say, though, that was impressive. Where did you even get it?"

"My master had it made for me at the Lungchuan ('Dragonwell') Forge in Zhejiang province, China," Mike said, wiping his brow. It had been a while since he'd done one of the forms, even the short ones, and he was feeling it in his joints. He definitely needed to practice. "Had it shipped over and everything. It's unique weapon meant for my dimensions."

"Nice of him to buy it for you, since you make him sound like such a skinflint," Karen mused.

"Oh, no, I had to pay for it," Mike corrected, shaking his head. "Damn thing cost me nearly five grand, which was a lot of money for me. He just said he'd get it done if I paid for it. It weighs almost as much as he does."

"He sounds like quite the character," Mona said, playing with the red tassel.

"If the Monkey King were a real person, it'd be Master Pan," Mike muttered. "Royal pain in the ass, and completely amoral. Keeping nineteen-year-old mistresses while he's in his late fifties is the least of his vices. But thanks to him, I can strip the bark off a hardwood tree with my bare hands in a tiger claw form and do push-ups with my fingers, so I overlook a lot."

"No wonder you're so good at those massages," Janet said, shaking her head. "You can punch holes through me with your fingers."

Mike refrained from making a 'Fistfuck of the North Star' joke, figuring that only Mona might possibly get it, and even that wasn't likely.

"Knowing you, DeBourne, this thing must have a name," Karen suggested, happy to divert the conversation away from Janet's fingering proclivities. "Dare one ask?"

"Well, historically or perhaps mythologically, the first guandao, made for and wielded by General Guan Yu during the Three Kingdoms Period, was called Qīnglóng yǎnyuèdāo, the Green Dragon Crescent Blade," Mike explained as people began examining the weapon. To his relief, no one was attempting to touch the blade. He hadn't treated it recently and didn't want them getting body oils on it before he was ready. "He also called it 'Frozen Glory'. In a tribute to that, I named mine 'Běifāng Zhi Nū', the Fury of the North."

"That's actually a surprisingly elegant name, DeBourne," Karen said, sounding impressed. "Well done."

"Still weirds me out that you speak Chinese," Janet sighed, shaking her head. A few of the students nearby who happened to be Chinese seemed more than a little surprised as well. The only one who wasn't was Ping. He was well aware of Mike's command of both Mandarin and Cantonese, not to mention some facility with the Wu dialect from around Shanghai. "I mean, y'look like you oughta speak Viking."

"I do, Remington, and it's called Old Norse," Mike pointed out. "Its closest living relative is Icelandic."

"I didn't even ask and I'm still getting a lecture," Janet groused, making Mona laugh. "So what're you gonna do with the Can Opener of Doom?"

"Actually, that'd be a pretty good name for it," Lisa chirped, thinking she was being funny.

Mike pondered her assertion. "Èyùn kāi guàn qì. Hey, you're right, not bad, Heyman."

Lisa pulled her hands down her face with a groan and started walking in circles, muttering to herself in Yiddish while everyone else laughed.

"In Yiddish, it'd be 'kenen opener fun farmishpetn'." Mike offered.

"Yeah, not nearly as menacing that way," Mona cackled.

"Right, well, you should go to the admin offices and start the process of clearing that thing, DeBourne," Karen said, putting her hands on her hips and taking charge. "Meanwhile, I'll have people take your venison and pheasant over to the kitchens for cold storage."

"Thanks, Gordon," Mike said with a nod, still holding his giant can opener.

"Okay, you five," she called, gesturing to five sturdy-looking young male students. "We need to get these boxes of food to the student kitchens before they warm up. Each of you grab one and let's go."

"I'm not doin' that," one kid said, scowling at her. "Who the He-"

"Finish that sentence and you'll never finish another, Dobson," Mike snapped, his eyes flashing as he gave the student a hard look. "When Gordon tells you to do something, you'll bloody-well do it and you'll damned well like it. Go, now."

The boy apparently named Dobson hurried over and grunted as he lifted one of the boxes and began tottering off, following the others who had complied without complaint. Karen nodded to him now. "Thank you, DeBourne. I can handle this from here."

She followed the students, her skirt ruffling around her thighs and her bronze hair curling in the breeze.

"Well, go with her," Mike said to Mona, Janet, and Lisa, giving them a look now. "Would she stand around and do nothing while you lot had a task?"

The all hurried off after their friend. Mike shook his head and pondered his next move. Did he put Fury back in its box it was shipped in, or did he carry it naked into the offices, so that there were no misunderstandings about what they were dealing with here?

"Can someone do me a favour and put that box back together, please?" he asked the students who were still milling nearby, waiting for their turn to be near the can opener. "I'll need to bring it with me."

Several girls complied willingly.

***

Blackwell Manor, Wednesday morning, the present...