The Lone Wolf

The Lone Wolf spotted his next victim through the window of the all night grocery store. "Yes," he thought, "you're next, I'm sure of it."

The mugger waited in the park across the street, hiding in the shadows of the trees. His black leather jacket and dark pants provided perfect camouflage in the darkness. He watched the old man paying for his groceries at the checkout stand.

"First of the month. Social security time. The old buzzard should be good for a couple hundred with any luck," he thought.

"Better watch yourself out there," the clerk cautioned the old man. "There have been a lot of muggings in this neighborhood lately." "Thank you. I'll be careful," the old man replied.

The old man left the store carrying a small bag. He had an old rain coat and carried a cane hooked over his left arm. He shuffled along the empty sidewalk, ignoring the darkened shop windows that he passed. The Lone Wolf had long ago adopted his own rules of behavior. Society's laws often made no sense to him. He obeyed only his own law now.

The mugger followed the old man, keeping in the shadows. He moved on black velvet feet, making no noise. The pair had traveled a few blocks when the old man turned down an alley.

"He's going to make this easy for me," the mugger thought. He followed the old man into the deeper darkness. At the halfway point, he made his move.

The rich baritone had all the warmth and compassion of an open grave. "Hand over your wallet, Gramps."

The old man put his bag down. "Take my money, but please don't hurt me," he croaked. He turned toward the mugger. The Lone Wolf stepped into Kiba dachi, the horse stance. The weapon which he carried lashed out, striking his victim in the throat. The blow crushed his larynx.

Dropping the weapon, he glided forward into Zen kutsu dachi, the forward facing stance. The fingers of his right hand curled inward, and tightened at the moment of impact to a fist that could break stone. A twist of the hips at the same instance multiplied the force of the blow. The callused knuckles of his first and second fingers struck the victim directly over the heart, sending it into fibrillation. He felt the sternum snap.

His unconscious victim fell backwards, striking his head on the concrete. His skull fractured on impact. Death was only moments away.

The Lone Wolf glanced around. There had been no witnesses. The moves had been executed perfectly, and so had his victim. He picked up his cane and groceries and shuffled down the alley toward his lair.

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