Jason Jones in Quebec City

Two punks walked toward Jason, smirking at the sight of the lone, 14-year-old American. The older of them, wearing a red beret, shouted "Ton argent ou ta vie!" From the tone of it, probably "Your money or your life", Jason guessed. Both of them carried knives openly. Jason glanced over his shoulder; sure enough, there was another thug waiting behind him, blocking off the other end of this dark little alley. Jason tried the door next to him; locked, as he expected. Then he grinned. This would be his first chance for a real fight.

Jason grabbed a metal pole lying on the side of the alley, in a pile of debris likely left by the owners of the locked door, and charged the lone punk. Startled, the punk drew a shiv, and Jason could hear shouts behind him as the other two ran after Jason; he paid them no heed. Swinging the pole up in front of him, Jason threw it into the punk's stomach; then, as he doubled over, Jason closed the remaining distance, kicked him in the crotch, and gave him an open-handed punch to the face.

The punk fell over.

Jason might have taken a few more moments to make sure that he stayed down, but he could hear the other two closing behind him. As he turned to face them, Jason scooped the metal pole up with one foot, throwing it up into his hand, just as the older of the two angrily shouted "Tu as blessé Javier!" as he attacked. The younger one swung his shiv at Jason's stomach as the older charged straight for Jason's head. Jason jumped backward, simultaneously swinging his pole about in a crushing arc. The older punk's shoulder emitted a horrible crunching noise as the pole crashed into it, and he fell back as the younger one stepped forward and grabbed Jason's pole.

Jason looked at him in consternation, then released the pole and stepped back again, in time to avoid anything worse than a graze from the younger punk's second slash. As Jason's opponent stepped forward and drew his knife back for a third slash, Jason brought his leg up in a snap kick, crushing the teenager's kneecap. The younger punk collapsed onto the ground as his companion got up from where he'd fallen after Jason crushed his soldier, now only trying to escape. Jason grabbed the pole from the young punk's hand and smashed it down, knocking the fleeing thug to the ground.

Jason laughed as the last of his opponents fell before him. His first fight, won so very thoroughly! He was flushed with adrenaline; like a very God! "Anyone else wanna try me?" he inquired. No-one answered.

Just to be careful, Jason gathered up all three knives and threw them behind himself, disarming his fallen assailants. Then he started searching their clothes. He found two wallets, containing between them $145 (Canadian) and a set of car keys. Jason looked at the keys in surprise, then walked to the end of the alley from which the punks had come. There, he saw a Toyota Corolla, parked by the curb. Jason tried the keys. They worked. "Didn't think they'd own a car," he mused to himself.

Jason strapped himself in and turned the ignition. He looked at the wheel. He was only fourteen, and didn't technically know how to drive a car... but hey, it looked simple enough. From over the noise of the engine, Jason heard someone shouting "Vous! Arrêt!" Looking to his left, he saw a cop, shouting at him from the alley. "You! Stop!"

Jason gunned the engine, and sped off, nearly hitting two parked cars and one that swerved to miss him. "Homeward bound!" he exclaimed to the car. Then he set about learning to drive.