The black belt - in the days before a land mine cut his career as a field man tragically short - laughs a little. "You could say that." Thinking someone defenseless due to a mobility issue was really rather stupid on the thief's part, Conklin muses. People adjust.

Speaking of which...he lets the thief up, and the kedan gets to his hands and knees, groaning. "Scram," Conklin says, giving the thief a not-so-light tap in the behind with said prosthetic foot, and the kedan wastes no time in getting out of there. He's obviously outclassed.

There's something off about the kid, though. Conklin files that gut feeling in his mental Rolodex of Hate and studies the boy. "Got a name, o curious one?"