The child's scream pierced the murky air of the alleyway, hitting Andrew harder than any physical blow could have. It reverberated in his chest, vibrating against a memory he had buried deep. *Helplessness. Watching someone you love get hurt and being too small to stop it.*
He wasn't that small boy anymore.
Andrew didn't think. The corporate analyst who weighed pros and cons, who calculated risks and ROIs, vanished instantly. In his place was the man who spent every Tuesday night at the Muay Thai gym punching bags until his knuckles bled. The man who spent his weekends on the judo mats, learning how to fall, how to throw, how to survive.
He dropped his bag. He vaulted the chain-link fence, his black coat billowing behind him like a dark sail. He landed in the dirt ring with a heavy thud, dust billowing around his dress shoes.
The crowd went silent. The professional fighter paused, mid-swing, confused by the sudden appearance of a man in business casual attire standing between him and his prey.
Andrew didn't look at the fighter. He turned his back to the threat, facing the bloody, battered giant.
"What is your name, old man?" Andrew asked, his voice steady, though his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
The Rhino blinked, blood dripping from a cut on his brow into his eye. He swayed slightly, looking at Andrew with a glassy, unfocused stare. He didn't speak. He couldn't. The pain had driven him deep inside a fortress of silence.
"Listen to me," Andrew said, urgency sharpening his tone. He could feel the professional fighter moving behind him, the shift in air pressure as the predator recovered from his surprise. "I'm going to get you out of this ring. I'm going to save you. But nothing is free."
The Rhino's eyes flickered. A spark of awareness returned.
"You have to listen to my story," Andrew whispered, the request sounding insane even to his own ears. "That is the price. You survive, and you listen."
*Whoosh.*
The air whistled. Andrew didn't turn. He didn't need to. He knew the attack was coming.
He ducked, a high roundhouse kick slicing the air where his head had been a fraction of a second ago. The crowd gasped.
Andrew spun, shedding his coat in one fluid motion. He brought his arms up in a tight Muay Thai guard.
"You talk too much, suit!" the fighter spat, launching a flurry of jabs.
Andrew parried the first two, blocked the third with his elbow, and absorbed a heavy body shot that knocked the wind out of him. Pain exploded in his side, sharp and hot. This wasn't sparring. This was real.
He gritted his teeth, adrenaline flooding his system. He caught the fighter's next kick, stepping in close. *Judo.* He grabbed the man's collar and sleeve, disrupted his balance, and executed a sweeping hip toss.
The professional fighter hit the asphalt hard.
Andrew backed up, chest heaving, fists raised. He looked like a wild thing now, tie loose, shirt stained with sweat and dirt.
"Get up!" Andrew roared, surprising himself with the ferocity in his voice.
The fight was on. And behind him, the Rhino stood frozen, watching the young stranger fight his battle with a blank expression, the gears in his concussed mind slowly, painfully, beginning to turn.