the smuggler’s bible


Pugilon ducks the henchman’s haymaker and counters with an uppercut that sends the scofflaw flying and leaves teeth rattling on the concrete.

Across the room he can see Bad Lord™ stretching while he works through the chaff. Hero and Villain lock eyes for a hot second. Pugilon tries to wink confidently but it just seems awkward.

“C’mon, just play it cool,” he mutters to himself while he caves in another goon’s chest. He hears a wet squelch that might have been the man’s heart hitting the far wall and wishes he had time to measure it for the record book.