Was out shopping on the weekend, something I tend to do far too much as a healthy hetero male, when I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in a while walking the other direction with her husband. Being the social butterfly I am, I thought it would be nice to catch up to them, and say hello to her, so I did just that.

I reached for her arm, gently saying her name, a huge smile on my face, and was actually excited about seeing her again, until she turned around, and was someone else.

She looked confused, but friendly. “My apologies. I thought you were someone else.” I said.  I let go of her arm, backing up slightly so as to be non threatening. A simple case of mistaken identity, until her boyfriend started in.

“You got a problem, Minmatard?” he started, obvious hostility in his voice. Before I could even reply, which we all know I was going to do, his girlfriend interjected, pushing her arms against his chest, standing between him and I. “Stop it. Please, you just got out of jail. You don’t need to go back. He didn’t mean anything by it. You don’t want to do this.” 

My heart went out to her in truth, from superficial judgement it didn’t seem a healthy relationship. Then again, how many really are? Being helpful by nature, I added my two isk worth. “She’s right.” I began, trying to form the words with enough sarcasm and vileness as to bait him into the desired result, “You don’t want to do this.” I don’t know if it was the giant smirk on my face, the effect of my words, or some other factor beyond my influence, but he pushed his girlfriend aside violently, and telegraphed a right hook towards my head that a Brutor infant going through his first combat lessons would’ve seen coming.

I stepped into the punch, instead of jerking away, the common, untrained response when someone swings at you. I caught his elbow under my armpit, his fist and forearm uselessly passing me by. Wrapping my own arm around his now snagged limb, I used my forward momentum, as well as his entire mass driving forward towards me, to drive my elbow square into his nose. At the same time, I smashed my heel down on top of his foot,  with the outside of mine braced against his ankle, and using that same driving forward motion, pushed my knee against his. This would snap his knee. I saw the look on her face; the look of confusion; the look of fear. I quickly stepped off of his foot. It saved his knee, but with all my force pushing forward, and him now pulling backward from the blow to his nose, he fell.

As he dropped onto his ass in a most undignified fashion, two local Concord Enforcers were already racing to the scene. I put my hands up in surrender. “What’s going on here capsuleer?” One of them demanded. “I thought this lady was a friend. I was mistaken. Her boyfriend didn’t appreciate me talking to her I guess, and assaulted me. I defended myself.” And it was actually the truth. That felt weird.

The boyfriend was groggily standing to his feet, with the help of one of the enforcers, blood splayed across his face. He held the fragments of his nose in place, cursing incoherently. The enforcer questioning me turned to the lady. “Is this true, ma’am?” 

She stood shock still, wide eyed at the entire proceeding. It had happened in less than two seconds. I don’t think she knew what to make of things. “Ma’am? Did this happen the way he said?”

She snapped back to attention, nodding. “Yes, yes it did. He did no wrong.” Her boyfriend reached for her, but she pulled away from him, her face flushing, her eyes darting away from my stare in embarassment. 

I heard a beep as the enforcer scanned me. “Colonel Roc Wieler, eh? Well Colonel, you’re free to go about your business. Sorry for the inconvenience. Hey, can I get your autograph for my kid?” I signed the paper he handed me, and happily put on a show, though not for him. I could see her staring at me.  I smiled a genuine smile, winked at her, then started to walk away to go about the rest of my day. 

I overheard one of the enforcers talking to the boyfriend. “Seems you’ve violated your parole just now. Looks like you’re going back to jail. You think you’d learn to control that temper.” 

I snickered. Then I felt a tug on my arm. I figured maybe he was anxious for round two, but I would’ve heard him running at me, would’ve heard the enforcers yelling after him. 

So I turned, hands relaxed, to find myself looking at the girlfriend. She didn’t say a word, just simply slid me a piece of folded paper, then quickly walked away, taking an entirely different path than that of her boyfriend.

I unfolded the paper. On it were her name and phone number. I shook my head, laughing to myself.

Women are crazy.