As he says these last words, he attacks. Like a sudden barrage of bullets, quick and full of devastating power, punching, kicking, smashing. One blow smashes the window of a police sedan, another seems almost to explode, driving a path through the air. Machiko evades each point of impact, turning, bending, side-stepping. Her hands and arms, like coiling serpents, mislead and deflect the blows that follow up. And always there is another blow, another strike, snapping, flashing toward her.