When he came to pick me up for the training, Jack became insufferable. He bombarded me with instructions about what I could and couldn't do. Who knew there were so many rules in a fight.
That's why I don't fight as a sport. Being bound by rules, diminishing one's effectiveness on purpose — what's the point in that? I never liked physical pain — and a fair fight seems to increase the chance of being hurt. After all, when you punch somebody in the face, you may break their jaw, but your knuckles will also get hurt. With a knuckleduster though… Or my favorite, steel-reinforced gloves, which were warm and practical enough to walk in them in winter.
As I came into the training hall, I understood Jack's insistence more. The place was full of cops. Nobody was in uniform, but I'd seen enough of
