Deal with him. Properly this time.

"Fuck I knew something was up," he says, shaping up for a fight.

You can tell by his stance that he doesn't know how to fight. He's athletic and strong, sure, but he's too loose, too full of openings. As he comes towards you, you open up your hips and pivot hard to drive through your punch as it explodes towards Jeremy's head. You pull back slightly just as you make contact - you could probably knock him out with a single blow, but you want to humiliate him for a bit. The speed you generate catches him off guard, and the crack of your fist on his skull detonates in the alleyway.

Jeremy gets thrown to the side from the force of the punch, and you're already ready for your next move. He stumbles, absolutely reeling from the first hit, looking like a deer in headlights as he begins to panic. Another punch cracks him in the face, and even though he knows how fast it's coming this time, his hands are too slow to block it. As you shape up for a third, an absolute look of terror comes over him, and he reactively lifts his arms to block his head before you even throw it. The move is futile as you throw a punch to his liver, landing a body shot so loud it echoes through the alleyway and drops him to the ground.

You stop holding back. The fight is brutal, short. Your knuckles connect with his jaw, his ribs, his stomach, over and over, each strike landing with a sickening thud. Jeremy stays down, his body crumpled in a heap on the ground. He lets out a pained groan, but it’s not anger in his voice anymore. It’s defeat.