EPTI was walking one of my several pre-determined neighborhood watch routes. Knowing that planning ahead is paramount to success, I mapped out several different routes, in the event of leering eyes from some far off dark corner memorizing my route and evading my justice. Typically the neighborhood watch organization asks that we do these trips in twos, but I had no mind to be slowed down by some flashlight wielding cowardly father of sniveling children, or whatever passes for your usual neighborhood watchman.
I could hear the vibrations in the cracked pavement, was intimately aware of the gentle, unnatural sway of the roots ceaselessly forcing their way upward out of those cracks to grasp at whatever rays of sunlight they could manage before being uprooted, torn away, unthinkingly trampled by passersby. I knew I was not alone this night.
The rhythmic vibrations of their music betrayed their approach, I already had the upper hand, but I was intimately aware of the stifling humidity in the air. My skin tingled, sweat mixed with anticipation, my lungs protesting their objection to the palpable, swampy moisture in the air that I forced into them with each deep breath. If it came to blows, I had to be fast and accurate, this was not the weather for wasted energy.
Seconds seemed like hours as they made their approach. Three, no, five of them, were those two lazily trying to keep pace with their partners, perhaps their muscles fatigued from inebriation or illegal drug use, or were they bringing up the rear like a trained unit? The first rule of warfare: rule nothing out.
One of the primary trio had a large metallic boombox rested on his shoulder, from which rap music blasted loud enough wake ghosts of centuries past whose incorporeal forms may even now be walking these streets, wondering what or who disturbed their immortal slumber. Unacceptable. They danced, if you could call it dancing, to their offensive music, throwing their bodies this way and that to the guttural lyrics rife with offensive language. I studied their jungle moves, getting their timing down exactly, not only was their dancing extremely poor but also a gross tactical error. In one fluid motion, I unsheathed my Bowie Knife, an overhand throw and it was sent spinning end over end, like a whirlwind it flew towards the trio. The blade buried itself deep in the boombox, sparks flew as my opponents were quick to cover their eyes, fearing retinal damage from the sudden stinging bright lights. Had they been clever enough to wear sunglasses like I do on my patrols, this would have not been an issue. Fools.
In that instant, the music stopped, the crickets ceased their chirping, no doubt looking onward with bated breath as I delivered justice in the form of fists and feet. Controlled violence in its purest form. I charged, planting my hands on the rough cement as though to perform a somersault, only this was far more deadly than any form of gymnastics. I performed a perfect split, my legs extending outward between the three as my feet began to rotate with the speed of helicopter blades. The leather of my Adidas footwear finding dumbfounded faces again and again, blow after blow landing on all three simultaneously.
I sprang upward with a dramatic back flip, hands on hips as I studied my handiwork. All three laying sprawled out on the concrete, unconscious. It was then I had noticed my sunglasses had become dislodged in my lightning fast attack. I should have to get some sort of band that loops around my neck in order to keep them in place. Mental note.
By this time the two trailing behind had finally caught up, the devastation I wrought on their companions finally coming into realization in their dimwitted minds. A stream of urine made its way out the leg of one of their far too baggy pants. I reached down for my sunglasses, dusting them off before putting them back on. I took a long, hard look at the remaining two. Minutes passed as I stared into their souls, seeing the cowards that they were. I knew it was over, no physical blows could come close to the mental fear that i had instilled in these two cretins. They were broken men, now and for the rest of their miserable lives. I gave a small chuckle.
"Not in my town, boys" I warned, though it needed not be said. I turned around and walked home, wondering as I walked by each house, which of these ungrateful neighbors I just saved from being raped, mutilated, tortured or worse at the hands of these sociopaths? A job well done, and the reward of knowing I made a change in this fucked up world is more than enough.
