wrestler’s ears on his left. “And this is Volodya Mendelson.” He pointed toward his right, to a handsome guy whose height and build were more suited for the NFL than a cruise ship. “Which one are you replacing?”
The gig was up. Pavel’s expression told me he knew he’d been played, and wasn’t happy about it. I was oh for two on finesse today, and the stakes were mounting with each failure. This time I was facing a veritable wall of opposition. At 6’2” and 220 pounds, I’m no powder puff, but these three were close to that on average, accent on the three.
“Mister Voskerchyan doesn’t like thieves or spies,” Pavel continued. “Which one are you?”
Wrestler spoke next, confirming that Pavel’s question was rhetorical. “Last guy we caught provided us with a week’s worth of entertainment before we let the sharks in on the fun. It gets boring down here in the crew quarters, you see. All the good stuff is up top. So thanks for joining us, regardless of your reason.”
“International waters are like outer space,” Handsome added. “Nobody can hear you scream.”
While they were busy working themselves up as men do before combat, I was assessing the situation. The trick was going to be rendering them unconscious without inflicting permanent damage or worse. Although the more they talked, the less I was concerned about the worse. Keep talking, guys. Given the close-quarters combat environment, I pegged Wrestler as the biggest threat and decided to take him out first.
“Let’s go talk to Voskerchyan,” I said, raising doubt as I moved toward them and the door.
The uppercut has several advantages, one of which is that it’s delivered through the undefended territory between the arms. Another advantage to uppercuts is that they slip in below the visual field. Recipients often never see them coming. That was exactly what happened to Wrestler. “Nobody gets-” was as far as he got before my palm-heel strike landed. By taking a step first, I was able to put my legs behind it, the blow kicking his chin up and back with great force and velocity of a kicking mule. The move compressed the nerve bundle at the back of his neck, turning off his lights. If there had been onlookers, they’d have said, “He never knew what hit him.”
With the other two just off to my left, I spun around and put my right elbow into Pavel’s solar plexus with enough force to lift him off the ground with a grunt and a whoosh. Solar plexus blows are beautiful because they cause all kinds of stress. The recipient remains conscious, but his system goes into reboot as it reacts to the systemic disruption that just paralyzed his diaphragm and stole all his air.
Continuing around with my circular momentum, I attempted to place a crushing yoke strike against Handsome’s larynx. I was fast, but not fast enough, and he snapped his head back in time to dodge the brunt of it. I continued through with my planned combination, planting a powerful left cross on Pavel’s temple and sending him to dreamland with a headache that would reverberate for weeks.
Dodging a kick from Handsome, I put myself between him and the door. The expression on his face told me he thought I was going to run for it, but I kicked it closed instead.
As the lock clicked home, the right side of his mouth pulled back in a primordial smile, revealing his canine tooth. Apparently Voskerchyan staffed his yacht with men who could serve a dual purpose. Being the bigger guy, and thinking I was cornered, Handsome launched himself at me as if he was storming the castle gate. His intent seemed to be to crush me where I stood, a bug on the windshield of his brawn.
I shot my left hand forward as though I was going for his eyes. Nothing induces panic faster than an ocular assault. As he tilted and twisted his head, I hit the other panic button. I drove my right fist straight into his balls, fast and true. Momentum carried him into me and flattened me against
The gig was up. Pavel’s expression told me he knew he’d been played, and wasn’t happy about it. I was oh for two on finesse today, and the stakes were mounting with each failure. This time I was facing a veritable wall of opposition. At 6’2” and 220 pounds, I’m no powder puff, but these three were close to that on average, accent on the three.
“Mister Voskerchyan doesn’t like thieves or spies,” Pavel continued. “Which one are you?”
Wrestler spoke next, confirming that Pavel’s question was rhetorical. “Last guy we caught provided us with a week’s worth of entertainment before we let the sharks in on the fun. It gets boring down here in the crew quarters, you see. All the good stuff is up top. So thanks for joining us, regardless of your reason.”
“International waters are like outer space,” Handsome added. “Nobody can hear you scream.”
While they were busy working themselves up as men do before combat, I was assessing the situation. The trick was going to be rendering them unconscious without inflicting permanent damage or worse. Although the more they talked, the less I was concerned about the worse. Keep talking, guys. Given the close-quarters combat environment, I pegged Wrestler as the biggest threat and decided to take him out first.
“Let’s go talk to Voskerchyan,” I said, raising doubt as I moved toward them and the door.
The uppercut has several advantages, one of which is that it’s delivered through the undefended territory between the arms. Another advantage to uppercuts is that they slip in below the visual field. Recipients often never see them coming. That was exactly what happened to Wrestler. “Nobody gets-” was as far as he got before my palm-heel strike landed. By taking a step first, I was able to put my legs behind it, the blow kicking his chin up and back with great force and velocity of a kicking mule. The move compressed the nerve bundle at the back of his neck, turning off his lights. If there had been onlookers, they’d have said, “He never knew what hit him.”
With the other two just off to my left, I spun around and put my right elbow into Pavel’s solar plexus with enough force to lift him off the ground with a grunt and a whoosh. Solar plexus blows are beautiful because they cause all kinds of stress. The recipient remains conscious, but his system goes into reboot as it reacts to the systemic disruption that just paralyzed his diaphragm and stole all his air.
Continuing around with my circular momentum, I attempted to place a crushing yoke strike against Handsome’s larynx. I was fast, but not fast enough, and he snapped his head back in time to dodge the brunt of it. I continued through with my planned combination, planting a powerful left cross on Pavel’s temple and sending him to dreamland with a headache that would reverberate for weeks.
Dodging a kick from Handsome, I put myself between him and the door. The expression on his face told me he thought I was going to run for it, but I kicked it closed instead.
As the lock clicked home, the right side of his mouth pulled back in a primordial smile, revealing his canine tooth. Apparently Voskerchyan staffed his yacht with men who could serve a dual purpose. Being the bigger guy, and thinking I was cornered, Handsome launched himself at me as if he was storming the castle gate. His intent seemed to be to crush me where I stood, a bug on the windshield of his brawn.
I shot my left hand forward as though I was going for his eyes. Nothing induces panic faster than an ocular assault. As he tilted and twisted his head, I hit the other panic button. I drove my right fist straight into his balls, fast and true. Momentum carried him into me and flattened me against
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