Ninjas are From Japan

He sensed he was being watched. No; it was something worse... they were out for Gavin's blood.

Dressed as the wait staff - black slacks, black collarless and un-tucked, buttoned up shirts, with black, lace-less loafers - two men passed by and joined another waiter already busting the table behind Gavin.

“How many China men does it take to set a table?” He thought to himself. “What is this, a joke?”

He knew they were after him but didn't want to show his panic by looking back. That would be too obvious and would prompt an early attack.

“They're raised to be on the defense. You have to catch them when they don't expect it—upon their attack.” So Gavin calculated his next move.

“I think I'll butter my bread.” He reached for his sesame roll and jabbed it with the oversized butter knife. “Hmph, too much yeast.”

He smushed the bread in his hand and dissected the roll until the knife made an incision. There was no cutting through it. He put his knife down and with his thumb and index finger he punctured two orifices and pried the roll apart. Gavin picked up the knife again and swooped a dollop of butter. As he spread it, something caught his eye. There were three pairs of eyes in the reflection of his knife staring right back at him. He continued buttering his bread nonchalantly.

Next, he attempted to get a jiggling jab of jelly. As he returned his knife to the bread, he saw one of the men approaching swiftly over his shoulder. “Here we go.”

With one direct movement he extended his arm upward and jabbed the first 5 foot 6 Chinaman in the neck right under the chin with the butter-tipped knife. Gavin held the attacker high, raising him above his head as blood trickled onto his shoulder.

He kicked his chair back, the man still frozen with death looming from the knife, life slowly escaping his eyes. The other two Chinamen flanked Gavin and closed in...