The man had a chance to stay down, and he didn't take it.  He might not have said so, but to me, that's a good enough indicator that he's not going to be the surrendering type.<em>Fine</em>.  I weave around his stupid, ham-fisted swing, and I swing onto his back, gashing his eyes with my free hand as my foot kicks at his knee to force him down.  The Killjoys are all still there, watching, and I know exactly how I'm putting this son of a bitch down.  I feel his knee buckle, and he goes down from standing.  I drop off his back, bury both my claws in his neck, and then<em>hurl</em>him into the closest concrete wall, hoping he'll leave the biggest blood mark in the history of blood marks.<br/><br/>"I hope that hurt."