Must be all the comics I’ve been reading lately, or the feeling of empowerment from last night’s speed feat, but this morning I was quite the badass, at first offering to protect a young feline stowaway from behind a long curtain hiding bloody bathtubs. “Not even the Thundercats could stop me,” I assured her. Then I was outside, watching said cartoon, wherein John Travolta led a squad of mafia thugs, the lot of them having been pulled through time & space to do the bidding of their evil master (Mumm-Ra?). In addition to the novel amalgamation, I remarked how surprisingly good the animation was, pointing to the detailed light work on their jackets, but my companion was less impressed, replying that she’d seen this one and the villain was someone not so unfamiliar.
A group of us stormed their headquarters, taking a stairway up from a market on the street. The first room upstairs was for a conference, and I marched through, not taking notice of its participants like a determined 이병헌. (Come to think of it, my stride was more 高倉 健 in The Yakuza, wasn’t it?) I finally met with resistance from an Asian bodyguard who shot me once, and as that had no effect, threw shuriken, which I simply removed from where they had lodged in my arm and returned; unfortunately for him, he didn’t possess my inexplicable regenerative superpowers à la Warren Ellis. The next few along the way I tossed out the windows, describing my technique of immediately surmising the situation, noting all possible tools available to me, then acting faster than apparently they could react. When I felt the realism challenged, I decided that maybe I ought to be breaking the glass with a chair or something before throwing their relatively soft bodies through them. The boss was an invalid old man, helplessly sprawled across a bed, and his young wife pleaded for mercy. Their child was a newborn with an affliction that required it be fully wrapped in bandages. I picked up the bundle and held it to my shoulder as if it were my own, and felt compassion.
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