The man stood and educated me on the virtues of pugilism in history and how fighting had made him fearless. He told me about the stances in tradition and how the ages had informed his lifetime of study. He waxed eloquent on the various styles he'd picked up traveling the globe, and then cautioned me to come no closer, that his hands were registered, deadly lethal weapons. I believed him. And then ... ? I knocked his ass out cold. I didn't know any of that shit he was talking about but I damn sure knew how to fight it.
jP (excerpt - the Salvation Plane)
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