the smuggler’s bible


Thursday is fight night in the alley behind the hardware supply store across town. Sviatoslav unbuttons his shirt cuffs and rolls up his sleeves, then tapes his arms halfway to the elbow. He’ll change clothes later, but the ritual helps him clear his mind.

People say the new guy can focus his ki into a little glowing ball and throw it overhand, that it feels like getting hit with a 12-gauge riot bag coated in napalm. Sounds like a lot of bullshit, Sviatoslav thinks. And anyway, how bad can it really be if no one has died from it yet?