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14f. Many Ways To Fight

“All right, you two,” the thug sneered, “empty your pockets and make it snappy.”

Richard had only a split second to size up the bandit. He was built larger, but his fighting stance was all wrong – a push in the right direction and he’d fall right over. And despite the tough words, the look in his eyes showed only fear. This was a bully, and not a very good one. But he was standing too close; Richard wouldn’t have time to draw his firearm. What to do? He heard Rosaleen whimpering behind him; she sounded terrified. He decided to act upon the best plan he could come up with in half a second, and it started with sick burns.

“Well, no wonder you have to rob people,” Richard jeered. “Look at you! Who’d hire that filthy mess?”

“Huh?” the hoodlum whined. “Shut the hell up, or I’ll cut you!” He jerked the knife in Richard’s direction.

“And what do you think you’re going to get? Neither of us are wearing jewelry. And no one carries cash anymore! What are you going to do, scan my credit card? Do you have a mobile terminal?”

“What are you doing?” he heard Rosaleen whisper.

“The hell? Just do what I say!” The mugger tried to screw up his face into an angry gesture, but his eyes remained unchanged.

“You’re old school, and not in the good way. Why don’t you try something more modern, like an Internet scam? You could even do it from the comfort of your own hovel.”

The knifeman started to say something fierce, but it petered out faster than a go-kart on the starting line of a stock-car race. Suddenly, a blurry object quickly flew between them, fluttering like a foot-high hummingbird. Was that a boomerang? All of them reared in surprise, but Richard recovered the instant he saw the ruffian’s eyes follow the airborne interloper. In a flash, he grabbed the hooligan’s knife-holding hand, and in a spiraling display of judo prowess, he flipped the goon onto his back, twisted his arm so the knife tip was in the small of his back, and pinned his other arm with his leg.

As he triumphantly held the ugly customer in a textbook-perfect pin, he dimly became aware of Rosaleen’s screaming. He turned and flashed her a confident smile; she went quiet. “Not to worry, milady,” Richard crowed, “everything is under control.”

He felt the hellion squirm; Richard pushed the knife tip further into his back, not enough to break the skin, just getting his attention. “Keep that up and you’ll stab yourself.” His prey went limp. Richard’s face formed a diabolical grin; he gently moved the knife tip up and down, watching the malefactor’s skin tighten and release, not drawing any blood. “Why are you stabbing yourself? Huh? Why are you stabbing yourself?” It seemed like fitting payback.

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“Stop it!” Rosaleen screeched.

“I’m not actually going to cut him,” Richard clarified. “I’m just convincing him to calm down.”

“Are you crazy?!” she yelled. “You could have been hurt!”

“Huh?” Richard gaped. “I thought you appreciated a life of danger!”

She stared wild-eyed in terror. “Humans are the deadliest predators,” she hissed.

As Richard pondered this hair-splitting, he became aware of a pair of footsteps approaching; a moment later, two patrolmen arrived. As they saw Richard, their faces broke out into beaming smiles.

“Hey, little bro!” one of them called out. “Hope that wasn’t your scream. No, of course not.”

The other one came to a halt. “It’s so sordid, having to meet like this,” he jested.

The first patrolman eyed Richard’s handiwork. “Excellent takedown! I’m very proud of you!” He took hold of the prisoner’s knife-holding hand, squeezing it to release its grip.

Richard arched his eyebrows. “I can’t take all the credit; the boomerang did its part too.”

“What boomerang?” The knife fell into the other patrolman’s waiting handkerchief and was promptly swaddled, preserving any fingerprints.

“Well, obviously it went back to where it came from.” Richard slowly let go as the patrolman assumed custody of the would-be robber, yanking him to his feet.

Both patrolmen laughed. “This could only happen to you two.”

The perp whipped his head to look at Richard, eyes burning with hate. “I’ll get you for this! You’ll never⁠–” He suddenly doubled over and crumpled, the patrolman holding him up like the world’s ugliest marionette. “Whoops, my baton slipped,” the other patrolman jeered. “Let’s hope the same mistake doesn’t happen again.”

The two cops led him away. “Thanks for the crime tip, little bro,” one said with a wink.

Richard snickered. “Hey, I snag ’em, you bag ’em!”

He saw a shape move in front of him. Rosaleen flashed him a fearful look as she strode toward the patrolmen. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“I…” she stammered, throwing Richard a haunted look. “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

“Seriously?” he asked, his mouth gaping wide open. Rosaleen was now in front of the two cops. One glanced at her, then turned around and gave Richard an embarrassed grimace.

“I don’t believe this,” Richard muttered to himself.

“And on that subject,” he declared, looking around him, “where the hell did that boomerang come from?”

Richard immediately regretted asking his question, as it was answered by an all-too-familiar booming voice, coming from a burly figure emerging from the trees, the mask and external swim briefs allowing for no confusion about his identity.

“Afternoon, citizen!”