Impartial Leg Breaker
The minute can be a long time when you're doing something you aren't used to. Take exercise for instance. Even people who work out a lot don't usually do that much in a single minute. Most people think that the only way to work out is to pump iron for a bit and rest when their muscles start to burn. This is a good way to build strength. But what's strength without endurance? The way to build that is to do lots of reps continuously. A minute is a good place to start. And that minute is long the first time.
This was how Delo felt the first time he tried to build up some endurance. His muscles were strong from years of strength-training; and that was all good, but he didn't like how quickly he lost steam when tossing bodies around. The weights, which were nothing to him under a few reps, taunted his muscles with burning. They mocked his body with their tiny heft. Don had told him to start with a minute and work up from that. But a minute was already seeming like too much. Maybe he should drop down to 30 seconds. If he didn't impress Chris the next time they went out, it was going to be burning a lot more than right now.
Delo tried a few more times to reach the one minute mark with his curls, but he fell short again. He decided to stop as his anger increased. A quick shower and some fresh clothes later, Chris called. Shit. Delo threw his coat on and grabbed his baseball bat from behind the door in the hallway. It was a lot sooner than last time. And he was still sore from the workout. God dammit.
The showdown happened like usual. Chris met him by the pay phone and told him to get in the pickup truck. Delo donned the typical paper bag that blocked out the view of everything around him and Chris told him to try and not count the stops and turns along the way. It was part of being an impartial leg breaker. He wasn't supposed to even know where the beating was going down. It helped if he didn't look very hard at the people he was pulverizing either. The less he knew, the more he could deny if anyone came after him. Delo didn't really understand much of it. Not only was it impossible to not count the stops and turns, but the images of those he struck with his bat were permanently burned into his memory. And who cared if he remembered anything? If someone was determined enough to bother to find out who smashed up their guys, they wouldn't be deterred by his pleas that he didn't know a thing, no matter how sincere those pleas were. So it was a weird job.
Chris was driving the truck fast tonight. They made exactly seven stops, so they hit at least seven red lights, maybe some stop signs if Chris was being a careful driver, which he probably wasn't. The way the vehicle swayed, Delo counted five right turns and three left, meaning they passed through at least one intersection that was uncontrolled. From where they met, Delo surmised they were heading somewhere downtown. He tried to sit relaxed in his seat with his head back like he was getting some shut eye. He didn't know if Chris was fooled by the act, but Delo never got a talking to, so it was all good so far.
Finally, the truck started to slow and it made a slight right turn as they probably glided alongside a curb. Delo waited for Chris to tell him it was OK to remove his paper bag.
"Alright, take that thing off your face before someone thinks you're gonna give me head."
Delo took the bag off and looked out the window of the truck. They were downtown alright, the tall buildings just a few blocks ahead. The building they were parked in front of was a faceless structure with tinted glass windows and a door with some small white print telling them of some lawyer who worked there. There was an alleyway next to the building and Delo supposed they were going down there to beat someone up.
"That alley there. Some punks like to hang out down there and we gonna give em something to talk about."
Chris got out of the truck and grabbed his own baseball bat from the bed. Delo sighed and grabbed his own baseball bat from between his legs.
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