The bigger they are, the harder they fall

“The thing you should know about Kurt Silverwood,” I said, my toes licking the edge of the rooftop, “Is that he always lands on his feet!”

I threw my weight from the building and hurtled forwards into the air. The distance between this ledge and the next had seemed minimal but I’d appeared to have misjudged it. Time stood still as my arms and legs flailed wildly like a distressed toddler trying to grasp at its favourite toy. Time shrank to a crawl as I glanced back at the gang of youths, standing slack-jawed, gawping at my unbelievably daring leap into the abyss. “Yeah, look on kids,” I thought.

But soon ol’ lady gravity had her way and started to tug my legs towards the bosom of her Earth-based chest. Momentum let go of my forwards trajectory and suddenly my masculine, bulky weight felt more of a burden than normal. I plummeted, feet first down two stories of nothingness.

Air rushed past my ears, my coat flapped wildly around my waist and the wet gravelled ground approached faster and faster. I pinged off the building opposite and was flung backwards to the brick wall I’d leapt from. I was a pinball, bouncing vertically down the alleyway.

Before I knew it, I'd reached the bottom. My feet where flat on the ground. I was standing upright, dazed and slightly shaken, but standing upright! I looked up at the yobbish group who gazed down in bewilderment. 

“That’s right! On my feet!” I shouted up to them in confident bravado. I’d chosen to ignore the loud crunch of my ankle shattering. Not to mention the snap of my shinbone splitting.

I took a step, aiming to briskly saunter away from the alley, but pain gripped me like a toddler gripping its favourite toy (a similar simile as before, yes). I couldn’t stop myself from yelping aloud as I dropped to my knees and fell forward crashing against a wheelie bin. I was blinded by the agony searing up my right leg yet somehow manage to drag myself against the wall, laying down, trying to catch my breath. I looked up at the rooftop and heard the mocking silhouettes of the gang above. I began blacking out – falling once again, this time into a pool of my own unconsciousness. I shoved myself awake and saw the gang had disappeared. But it wasn’t long before I slipped back into blackness, the warm woozy embrace of sleep cradling my throbbing ankle. When I awoke again, the cretins were back. Now at ground level. Gathered round me.  Cackling.

I analysed the situation using some highly complex mathematical equations and came to a conclusion that the chances of me winning a fight with this lot were slim. I’m incredible, I’ll admit to that. But I’m not super-incredible. Taking on three of them would have been no problem, maybe even four if I’d have had a shot of whisky with breakfast. But I had to face facts that with my ankle now splintered into thirty different shards and the unnatural feeling of bone against cotton trousers, there’d be no way I could take on a whole gang. So I did the bravest thing I could think of in the scenario, and blacked out again, this time whilst being mugged.

I don’t think I have much more to add. I’ve given you this little passage to allow you to see my human side. Although I’m incredible; a mould breaking phenomenon that will never be replicated again, I’m actually just like you(ish).

Oh, and I can clarify that you can’t feel pain whilst unconscious. That’s really worth noting.

Kurt Silverwood P.I.