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At that moment, Roc was helpless, and Ingram didn’t let the chance go to waste. He kneed Roc in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs, and then grabbed Roc by the arm and one of his wings and leaped off the edge of the arena. In midair, he seized Roc’s legs with his feet, leaving him unable to fly or resist as he took to the air, rising into the sky above the arena, and then dropping into a divebomb. His plan was simple: fall towards the arena with Roc in his grip, then let go and pull back, sending Roc crashing into the ground before landing daintily like a butterfly over the pulverized eagle warrior.

I retrieved my bag that had some clean running clothes in it and returned to the master shower. I turned on the water, steaming hot, stripped, opened the glass door and stepped in. I thought at the time it was a nice shower, but I know now it was a typical tract house cubical. I was thankful for the opportunity to jack off, as my cock had been rock hard since Mrs. B’s dress rode up, exposing her lovely thighs when she got in the car. I was just soaping up my dick to get some relief when I was startled by the opening of the shower door. Mrs. B. stepped into the shower, naked, holding a plastic cup. She handed me the cup.

“All I ever wanted was to change the world, to make it a better place where the weak wouldn’t be stepped on and enslaved, where freedom was a right instead of a privilege. I pushed myself, I struggled, I suffered, all for that goal, and survival is the best I could accomplish? If I have to focus only on survival, to be grateful just for staying alive, then how am I supposed to change anything? How am I any different from those who do nothing to fix this broken, corrupt reality?”