Thomas never fancied himself to look threatening... and yet, here he was, chasing down a mugger that fled at the very sight of him. Guilt can make you jittery. Everyone knows the feeling.
The mugger turned around a building and made a head-on sprint for the construction site down the road, probably trying to find cover. Not to be outdone, Thomas dodged the curve, ignoring the site's entrance and instead sprinting straight for the fence and hopping over it. Once inside, he skidded to a halt behind a hunk of concrete, listening carefully to try and cut off his target.
Sure enough, after a few moments of waiting, the mugger reappeared, still trying to cover as much distance as possible but losing speed. The opportunity was here- Thomas broke off into a sprint again, gaining headway fast. He closed the distance fast and, having not planned ahead any further than this, leapt headfirst into an awkward tackle. Both of them gracelessly skidded onto the ground... ouch.
Not as effective as Thomas had hoped. He lay on the ground for a few seconds, rubbing his sore hip and trying to catch his breath. To his left, he heard the mugger get to his feet. Trying not to get caught off-guard, Thomas quickly picked himself up off the ground- and immediately collapsed again, caught by a hook from the angered criminal.
Head reeling and face bloodied, Thomas breathed quietly from his soft patch on the ground, hoping that the mugger would somehow give up and go home... but to no avail. He appeared just above Thomas, pointing a pistol anxiously.
"Get up... don't try anything..." the mugger panted out, trembling slightly.
Thomas shook his head, trying to quell his dizziness, and sat up. He slowly got to his feet, backing up until he could stand at a safe distance from the gun.
The mugger scowled with frustration, trying to look threatening. "So, who- who are you? A cop?"
"Just... just a guy," Thomas sighed, showing his hands. "Just relax..."
It occurred to Thomas suddenly that his life was now entirely in this man's hands. One finger twitch, and he might never see the outside of this place again...
But nothing happened. A few more moments of tense waiting, and the man's anxiety started to show. The two of them were both tense, and it started to become clear that this man had no intention of shooting anybody. On any other night, Thomas would have turned and fled, but for some reason he felt compelled to take this opportunity. An opportunity to finish what he started...
In a moment, he rushed forward, flinging himself full-force into the mugger and driving his knee into his stomach. The mugger stumbled backwards, dropping the gun and landing on his back. Thomas grabbed the gun, heart racing, and evaluated the man again. Killing was out of the question... even if Thomas was capable of it (and he knew he wasn't), the man didn't deserve it anyway.
But it was all or nothing now, and he had to do something. He flipped the gun around in his hand, gripping the barrel, and slammed the butt of it into the mugger's face. Exhilarated, he swung again, and then again, bloodying the man's face (and the gun). Confident that the job was done, Thomas checked the man's pulse- still alive, thankfully.
Breathing heavily, he backed up from the body and stared at the bloodstained pistol, almost disgusted. He dropped it on the ground, his mind racing. Someone would find this... right? Police. The man would be caught.
Thomas wiped the blood from under his nose, almost proud of the wound. It was evidence that something good had happened here tonight. And it was something that needed to happen again.
After a moment of thought, Thomas picked up the gun off the ground again, cleaning the blood off with his shirt, and tucked it into his pocket.
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