His friend, a smallish man in a flannel shirt and sporting a douchebag goatee, retaliated. He pointed his gun at Trent but didn’t fire. It was then that Trent realized the guy’s gun was fake. Without hesitation, Trent punched the douchebag goatee guy straight in the face. He dropped like a stone, out cold.
The big guy
got to his feet and started to flee. Trent blocked his path and grabbed his arm again. He twisted the big guy’s wrist until he heard an audible crack. The big guy howled in pain. Trent wasn’t even fighting to his full capabilities, but he used more force than he should have. In the presence of his mysterious lady in the black suit, his alter beast had become excited and demanded to be let free.
Trent turned to the distressed woman. “Are you all right?”
“You broke my wrist, dude!” the big guy screeched.
“I wasn’t asking you.” Trent looked back at his dame-in-distress. “You okay?”
The woman nodded furiously. She started gathering her scattered belongings.
“Did they take anything from you?”
“J-just my wallet.”
“Give the lady her wallet back, you scum,” Trent barked at the big guy.
“All right. All right. Don’t hurt me.”
“That’s funny coming from you. Guess it isn’t fun when the tables are turned, is it?” Trent let the big guy’s arm go.
The big guy whined some more before producing a woman’s wallet from his pocket. He handed it timidly to the lady in black.
“Are we cool now, bro?” he asked Trent. “We’re cool, right? We gave the lady her stuff back. Can we go now?”
“I’m not your bro.” Trent helped the lady with the papers. “Did you call 911?”
She startled and quickly shook her head. “No. I don’t want to press charges. I just want to get this over with.”
The big guy started thanking the lady.
Trent told him to shut up. He turned to her with concern. “Are you sure? If you don’t report these guys, they’re just going to do it again.”
“I got my wallet back. I don’t want to waste my time by filling out a police report, giving a statement, and all that. I’m late now as it is.”
“Are you sure?” Trent shot the man a dirty look. “They ruined your briefcase.”
“It’s old. I don’t care.”
The douchebag goatee guy started to rouse from his unconsciousness. The big guy helped his friend up.
Trent glared at them both. “You heard the lady. Now get lost.”
The muggers scrambled away. Douchebag goatee guy started cursing but the big guy shut his friend up and made a beeline to the opposite side of the alley. They both disappeared.
Meanwhile, some people had congregated at the mouth of the alley, watching the commotion. Two teenagers filmed what had just transpired. Nobody seemed to be calling the cops. Typical. Seeing that the muggers were gone, people finally started to disperse. Except the two teenagers, who were still recording.
Trent snarled at them, “Scram!”
“Those were some cool moves, man,” said one of the teenagers, before they shuffled away.
Trent rolled his eyes. He picked up and handed the last of the papers to her, but only after he “accidentally” read what was on them. They looked like court orders. “You’re a lawyer?”
“Paralegal.”
“With what firm?”