Workout

The weeks of recuperation have served me well. I feel more focused and clear in what needs to be done than ever before.

I'm in mid-leap and I hear the scream and I admit I'm getting a little excited. There's another scream and I doubleback to pinpoint it. I reach the edge of the rooftop and they're right below me. Three thugs have an elderly woman on the ground. Two of them hold her down as the third rummages through her purse for what little money she has.

I survey the scene a little more and then I take the plunge. I draw my sword as I fall and let it drag down the brickwall beside me, slowing my descent.

CRASH!!!

I come down hard on the roof of a parked car, sending all the windows shattering outward.

I think I have their attention.

They leave the woman alone and start marching towards me.

I take a leap and flip over their heads, placing myself between them and the woman. She's hurt but she can walk and I tell her to do just that. She doesn't want to see what's gonna happen next.

I can feel it the same as before. The thrill of it all is getting to me and I have to remind myself that as hard as it is to do, I shouldn't be having fun. This isn't a game.

The first one comes at me hard and fast. He's obviously had some training since his punches come with a rapid-fire focus that comes from someone who knows how to handle themselves.

He's still no match for me but I have to really be on my toes to dodge his attacks. What the hell? It'll be nice to actually break a sweat tonight.

I let him have his fun but when I see the other one coming to join in I have to drop him fast.

And the handle of my sword smashing against his nose does the job just fine.

I drop to the ground and kick out the other one's legs. I hear the bone snap and for a second I think I might be going a little too hard on these guys. But what do I care? They're still alive at least.

As his friends lay moaning on the ground the third little punk is shaking in his boots. I take one step towards him and he bolts.

I know I should let him go. I know he's nothing but a purse snatcher who's probably so high right now he won't even remember this tomorrow. But when I see him run into the fleabag bar up the street, a fleabag bar frequented by the likes of a lot worse than drug addicted purse snatchers....

I just can't help myself.

Besides... I could use a drink.