Грань будущего

           Iwatchedasheputeveryounceofhisstrengthintotheswing.Hisfistwentsailingrightpastthetipofmynose.Hewasneglectinghisfootwork,leavinganopening.Ididn’ttakeit.

           Therewentmyfirstchancetokillyou.

           Herecoveredfromthemissedpunch,hisbreathroaringinhisnose.Hestartedhoppingaroundlikeaboxer."Stopduckin’andfightlikeaman,bitch!"

           Stillhaven’thadenough?

           ThegapbetweenourlevelsofskillwasdeeperthantheMarianaTrench,butIguessthatdemonstrationhadn’tbeenenoughforittosinkin.Poorbastard.

           Hecamewithalefthook.Imovedbackhalfastep.

           Whoosh.

           Anotherjab.Isteppedback.Icouldhavekilledhimtwicenow.There,mythirdchance.Nowafourth.Hewasleavingtoomanyopeningstocount.Icouldhavelaidhimoutonthefloortentimesoverinasingleminute.Luckyforhimmyjobwasn’tsendingable-bodiedJacketjockeystotheinfirmary,nomatterhowhotheadedtheywere.MyjobwassendingMimicstotheirownprivatepartofHell.

           Witheachpunchhethrewandmissed,thecrowdcriedout.

           "Comeon,youhaven’tevenscratched’im!"

           "Stopprancin’aroundandtakeahitalready!"

           "Punchhim!Punchhim!Punchhim!"

           "Watchthedoors,don’twantnobodybreakin’thisup!Igottenbucksonthebigone!"Followedimmediatelyby,"Twentyonthescrawnyguy!"Hey,that’sme!IthoughtasIdodgedanotherpunch.