Maxwell

Being the quick thinker I am – like a bald man, my head is where I shine – I quickly assess my options:

1. Attempt to exit the apartment. This is not quite feasible, nor is it terribly appealing. She’s standing in front of the door, and the miniscule nature of my Indian friend’s abode fails to leave much room for guile maneuvering. Furthermore, and perhaps more importantly, escaping would be tantamount to cowering. Maxwell Virgo is not one to cower. No, he is not.
2. Settle the dispute pacifistically. This is mildly appealing. It is safe, and there is comfort in safety. But at this point, I feel as though it too is essentially equivalent to cowering: for the woman before me is evil, and I should not compromise my moral convictions when she is the one who has clearly been immoral the entire time. The life of a savior is certainly not an easy one, but it is a life I have chosen. Hence I must live up to it.
3. Attack. This appears to be the only suitable option. I have no intention of killing the woman – while that would be preferable and beneficial to society, I feel as though the potential criminal liability I may suffer is a cost to great to bear – but I would like to wound her and exit the apartment. I may even leave the baby here, just to escape all criminal liability. The Kill Baby Club has grandiose plans and a bright future, and this should not be compromised for the sake of the immediate gratification derived from killing a child.

So I attack.

It is important to remember that I am armed, and thus possess a competitive advantage in this combat. I reach out to her and grab her by the throat, choking her with all my might. She appears to possess some sort of combative knowledge – perhaps Kung Fu or Muay Thai Boxing – and thus strikes me violently. War is taking place, all in the midst of Shree’s unfurnished and unlocked residence.

Speaking of Shree, I direct one of my eyes towards him. He looks at us with no emotion. I often wonder what is going through that man’s head.
But alas, I do not have the luxury of concerning myself with Shree’s actions. This violent woman, with whom I am engaging in combat, is punching and kicking me relentlessly. I am severely wounded. Not even Enormous Man was so vicious.

I must do something. Quickly. Panic has set in. Out of desperation, I lunge forward, extending my knife into her midsection.

Jackpot.

She is clearly dazed and weakened. While my stamina is certainly not an optimal level, and while I am severely injured, I muster the fortitude to execute several more similar attacks: I stab her repeatedly in the midsection, in the arms, in the chest.

Finally, my knife goes for the jugular.

Literally.

So yes, I have killed her. She is coming to her death. I assure you, hell awaits her.

But this saga is not yet complete. While there is the joy of her pending death, there is also great sadness.

Prior to stabbing her in the jugular, she sharply thrusts her fingers between my fourth and fifth ribs at a forty-five degree angle. This may seem like a strange attack, and I assure you it certainly is. But one thing is undeniable: it is immensely painful.

Then, with lightning quick speed, almost as if she knew her life would be over, she executed a similar strike to both sides of my neck.

After these strikes, and after stabbing her jugular, I felt as though all of my energy, my life force, had been extrapolated from me. I saw my life flash before my eyes, and I felt as though I was going to a place far, far away. I came to a realization: this would be the end.

But I am pleased to say that I have no regrets. For I adhered to my moral codes, and I shall be remembered as a savior. I am a martyr for the ages. I sacrificed myself for important causes, for issues that are affecting the entire world yet fail to garner the attention of the masses.

I know I took the right course of action. Ultimately, a noble death is worth a million lives.