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He
recovered
from
the
missed
punch
,
his
breath
roaring
in
his
nose
.
He
started
hopping
around
like
a
boxer
.
"
Stop
duckin
’
and
fight
like
a
man
,
bitch
!
"
Still
haven
’
t
had
enough
?
The
gap
between
our
levels
of
skill
was
deeper
than
the
Mariana
Trench
,
but
I
guess
that
demonstration
hadn
’
t
been
enough
for
it
to
sink
in
.
Poor
bastard
.
He
came
with
a
left
hook
.
I
moved
back
half
a
step
.
Whoosh
.
Another
jab
.
I
stepped
back
.
I
could
have
killed
him
twice
now
.
There
,
my
third
chance
.
Now
a
fourth
.
He
was
leaving
too
many
openings
to
count
.
I
could
have
laid
him
out
on
the
floor
ten
times
over
in
a
single
minute
.
Lucky
for
him
my
job
wasn
’
t
sending
able
-
bodied
Jacket
jockeys
to
the
infirmary
,
no
matter
how
hotheaded
they
were
.
My
job
was
sending
Mimics
to
their
own
private
part
of
Hell
.
With
each
punch
he
threw
and
missed
,
the
crowd
cried
out
.
"
Come
on
,
you
haven
’
t
even
scratched
’
im
!
"
"
Stop
prancin
’
around
and
take
a
hit
already
!
"
"
Punch
him
!
Punch
him
!
Punch
him
!
"
