The fist came out of nowhere. Or more precisely it came from Samuel’s right side, firmly attached to the thickset hoodlum who’d chosen that exact moment to direct it at the upperclass snot he’d found lost in daydreams on his observation deck. Samuel went sprawling, unprepared he bounced off the metal railing, fell to the floor, and dripped blood all down his chin and jacket from where the punch had split his lip.

Momentarily winded, hurting, and confused Samuel looked up from his embarrassing position to see the bully towering over him, a small gang of hangers-on sneering from behind the man’s beefy shoulder. 

“Why do I always gotta find you upper-level twat here in my favourite lunch room aye? I’ve told you before, stay up in the clouds where you belong little boy, or you’ll pay.”

“Come on Vince. What the hell!” Samuel shot back, wiping the blood off his mouth with the back of a hand and glaring at the man standing  above him. If he showed any fear he knew he was done for. Vince and his gang had been a constant pest in Samuel’s life since he’d first crossed paths with them in high school. The bully had a nasty streak in him wider than a highway, and a talent for attracting others just like him into his orbit. With too much time on his hands, and testosterone-induced rage to fuel, Vince had built his own little empire of violence and extortion. Samuel didn’t know what he’d ever done to incur Vince’s wrath, he only knew that Vince had hated him since the first time they’d crossed paths, and Vince was getting bolder.

Inwardly, Samuel cursed himself. He thought he’d timed his visit so that he wouldn’t run into this shit. He’d discovered this particular viewing platform years beforehand; meanwhile, Vince had only started coming here after he'd had Samuel followed one day, and he only came to taunt him. Today though there was a special glint in Vince’s eye that Samuel didn’t like the look of. It was something vicious, something that didn’t feel like it would end with a couple of knocks to the gut, and a black eye as a souvenir. Samuel was worried.

Playing for time, Samuel drew his legs back under himself, bracing himself against the railing, his eyes desperately seeking a way out, a clear path. As Vince began advancing towards him, Samuel saw it, the perfect opening. Pushing off from the railing Samuel launched himself towards one of the pathways that would lead him safely back into the nearest highrise. Once inside he knew he could lose them, he knew the buildings around here like the back of his hand. 

‘Yes!’ he thought to himself, he was slight and fast. He was already steps ahead of them, and he knew he could outrun whoever came after him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t outrun someone who’d already taken up a position up ahead. As he raced along the concourse he heard Vince whistle behind him, and at that moment a figure stepped out from the shadows of the doorway and right into his path. 

Samuel couldn’t stop, he went flying into this new person at full speed, and he might as well have run headlong into a brick wall. This latest goon barely grunted as Samuel hit him and went flying back, landing painfully on his tailbone and ending up in yet another heap. He heard laughter behind him, and footsteps. Not just Vince this time, the others too. He knew they were all coming to get in on the action, not content to be mere spectators to Vince’s sport. Stuck on this narrow pathway, with people behind, and Mr Brickwall ahead, Samuel had no way out.

He’d never been much of a fighter, and this felt more hopeless than any other time in his life. Now he just had to hope that the fire in Vince’s eyes wouldn’t burn too long. He knew what a cowardly thing it was, but in that moment the only thing Samuel could do was bring his legs up and tuck his head down. The laughter only got worse as Samuel curled himself into a foetal position, trying to protect his most vital parts from the worst of the stomping to come. This was a new kind of fear now, not the exhilarating fear of The Edge, but something far more personal; a cruel fear that wrung a tear from the corner of Samuel’s eye.

Tensing himself, his heart pounding in his ears, Samuel prepared for what was about to happen next. He lay there, and waited, and trembled, and couldn’t hear anything apart from the rush of blood and his own brain screaming at him, trying to drown out what was happening. He lay there for what felt like an hour before the hand finally came down on his shoulder, and he screamed!