Phule’s Paradise by Robert Asprin

Though he hadn’t said anything at the time, Lobo wasn’t wild about being assigned to play punching bag for some uniformed jerk. Not that he minded the possibility of pain or injury; it was the idea of not fighting back that bothered him. Still, it wasn’t often that Stilman came to him with work, and he was eager to prove himself.

Lobo was impressed by Ward Stilman as he had rarely been impressed with anyone in his life, and wanted to move up in that notable’s esteem. If the man wanted him to take a dive, he’d do it, but he wanted to be sure it was as spectacular as possible.

He pondered this as he ensconced himself at a table in the cocktail lounge that opened into the casino, the only lounge still open during the remodeling. This, too, was covered by his instructions: to establish his presence before starting trouble, so it wouldn’t look like he walked in with that end specifically in mind.

Lobo had followed Stilman’s career in astroball, as had most who loved that rough-and-tumble sport, until the league tossed him out for consistently exceeding the level of viciousness allowed by the rules, though the clamor from the media, not to mention several threatened lawsuits by hopitalized individuals who were unfortunate enough to have faced him on the field, doubtless played a factor in their decision. In person, however, Ward Stilman was even more intimidating than when viewed in the holos. The man had a disquieting habit, on the field or off, of standing absolutely motionless-not stiff or tense, but poised, as if he were waiting for just the right cue to spring for your throat. The media, of course, had picked up on this trait, calling him “the Statue” or, playing on his name “the Still Man,” but watching him in a stadium or even in holo was not the same as trying to remain relaxed when he was looking specifically at you. Whenever they talked, Lobo found himself moving very slow and deliberately, hoping subconsciously that by making his own actions clear he would not trigger an attack accidentally. Not being used to feeling fear, Lobo at once admired and resented the effect Stilman had on him, and aspired toward the day that Stilman would view him as an equal. The trouble was, how could he demonstrate his own courage and effectiveness while keeping his hands in his pockets, soaking up damage from some Army amateur?

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