Free Crystal Deception by Doug J. Cooper

she’d been the last person on his mind as
he drifted off to sleep, and she was the first person he thought of when he
woke this morning. Only one person had ever done that to him. Five years ago.
And now today. He wondered if there was some way he could ask her for understanding
and forgiveness. Would it be enough for him to acknowledge he had wronged her and
accept the blame?
    He checked the time and realized he should get home and
catch some sleep. He worked his way toward the main road and the convenient
transportation it offered. Rounding a corner, he found himself on an empty
street facing two beefy men. Sid got the impression they were waiting for him. Removing
his hands from his pockets, he casually changed course so he could walk around
them. His senses went on alert when they shifted to block his progress.
    “Can I help you?” he asked. He now considered the two to be adversaries,
and he evaluated his situation with that mindset. One of the thugs moved
directly in front of him. He wore tight leather gloves and kept clenching and
unclenching his fists. The other, wearing a sport coat, moved to his left. The brick
wall of a building was behind him. Sid was boxed in.
    “Look, guys, I’m a working man. I can’t afford to replace
anything you take from me.” As he said this, he took a step back and turned
slightly so they were both in sight and evenly split in his vision, Coat to his
left and Gloves to his right. He saw that Coat had a club or rod of some sort
in his hand.
    “You Sid?” asked Coat.
    “No, you have the wrong man.” This wasn’t a street mugging.
They were there for him. He didn’t understand their motivation, but
instinctively flipped his tactics from defensive to offensive. “Please let me
pass.” He hadn’t started this and had given them fair warning. They were the
ones who crossed the line. His conscience was clear.
    They smirked at him.
    Experience had taught him that letting extra time pass increased
the likelihood that more friends and weapons would be brought into play. He took
a step forward to close the gap between them, then feinted toward Coat with his
open left hand. The thug stepped back, and Gloves, seeing an opportunity, stepped
forward.
    Sid’s feint positioned him sideways to Gloves and allowed
him to shift his weight onto his left foot. His right leg was a blur as he threw
a thrust-kick into Gloves’ midriff, followed by a side-snap kick to his knee. There
was a sickening crack. Gloves fell to the ground, holding his leg and groaning
in pain.
    Sid turned to Coat. “Time to move on, mate.”
    Coat dropped his club. It gave off a metallic ring as it hit
the sidewalk. He moved his hand toward his pocket, and Sid decided to finish it.
He feinted with his knee. Sensitized to the danger presented by Sid’s feet,
Coat instinctively moved his hands down to block the attack. As Sid knew he
would.
    With hand arched and fingers extended, he snapped a vicious
hand strike to Coat’s throat. Coat collapsed in a heap and remained still. Sid
turned to Gloves, saw him moving, and used the heel of his foot against the
side of his head to quiet him as well.
    The whole fight lasted just seconds. Sid looked up and down
the street. Seeing no one, he bent over and patted the pocket Coat had been reaching
for. He felt something hard and shook the clothing until the item slid out onto
the ground. It was a blade. Taking care not to touch it or leave any
incriminating evidence, he kicked it to the side.
    He then searched each of them in earnest. Except for a cap
in Glove’s back pocket, they carried nothing. He looked at the labels of their
clothes and did a quick check for tattoos or other markings, but couldn’t find
anything distinctive. They were pros.
    He heard a crowd of partiers moving in his direction. Grabbing
Glove’s cap, he walked away from the sounds of revelry. There were public
monitors all over the city, and he was already on record. He did the best he
could under the