<html>I was utilizing a ride share when the driver announced that we had arrived at 2633 Scotts Avenue.
I had been reading, as usual, and had not noticed the long elapsed time. From the back I made my case.
“The agreed upon destination was 1825 Irving.”
He disputed that fact offering if I change the destination from my device, he will provide services. I complied.
“I’m not taking you anywhere. Get out here.”
“We had an agreement.”
“Give me all your resources and credentials.”
“No,” I said, drawing my tubular carbon fiber flashlight. A bit longer than a closed fist. It was very heavy. I had got it in Suisun. I placed my posture on an attack from the backseat conducive to offense.
He was childish. He passively dismissed any truth that assured him that his lies were not bulletproof.
Once he caught sight of the weapon, speed which propelled him out of his smarmy, lie heavy bubble of “what are you going to do about it,” protection, at about 8 times what I normal person moved.
When I left the rear of the vehicle from my side to pursue, I caught a full on chemical attack from the weapon he kept in his driver’s side door.
“In a few moments this will be very painful,” I said walking away, “here we go.”
Men can hit each other. But the very concept of hitting something only belongs to God.
END IMAGE<🇫 🇧 🇮 [Djous=“Jupiter” “King of Kings” "Robert LeVeck"] [The infant="El Niño"] [Ruling House= "In Effect for U.S. Congress" "Black"] [geekbar="AEJAAU5BFS2Q"] [Style="#76a5af"]>