The third guy was moving from my right, trying to corral me towards the side street. His ponytail was pulled back tight. His little stubbly beard was carved into a thin shape on a weak face, but he had stunning bright blue eyes highlighted by dark eyelashes, like a male model. He was reaching into his pocket with his left hand, and I was on him in two steps, shutting him down. His right fist came up in a wild flail with no momentum. I stepped into the swing and at the same time transferred body weight from rear to front leg. I bent the knees, sinking low. Moved in close and punched my right elbow into his solar plexus.

The tip of the elbow made contact with a click. He went down in a sprawl.

The solar plexus is a bundle of nerves right above the abdomen, where it meets the chest. It’s nearly impossible to actually hit the solar plexus because it sits too deep inside. But, if you get low and aim up, kind of diagonal, you can impact the nerves enough to fire off impulses to the target’s diaphragm. When you get it right, the shocked nerves over-stimulate the diaphragm, which contracts. The target thinks that they are suffocating.

Which is what happened to the ponytail guy. I didn’t swing my elbow in, I punched it out. The pointy part hit him right in the chest hollow. I followed through like he was made of paper. He hit the ground and started to spasm and gasp. He’d survive. In a few minutes the diaphragm would relax. But he’d get all clammy with cold sweat for at least an hour.

Two down, one to go.

I turned left to face the side street. I was right about the rat-faced guy, the number two haircut man with the Adidas stripe and small, close set eyes. He was coming out of the side street in short steps. This was someone who didn’t do enough walking. Too much sitting around playing video games. I detected hesitation. His plan wasn’t working out. He hadn’t wanted to do it in a crowd.

He had a knife in his right hand. The blade was a Spyderco one-handed opener. All steel. Pretty nasty. But the steel handle isn’t much good because it gets slippery when wet. And if you’re not planning on getting a knife wet, you shouldn’t be taking out a knife. I stepped in quick and caught him off-balance. He found himself too close-in to use the blade. I could feel the guy’s breath on my face, onions and spice. He had a panicky expression, lips drawn back in a distorted scowl. People aren’t generally comfortable with getting up close and personal.