Until you experience those kinds of things you really won't understand. Same with my home invasion. Until you realize you have no defense you won't understand.
I wholeheartedly agree.
I was in a similar situaiton a few months ago.
I was driving down the I74 in my SUV, minding my own business, when I was accosted by a lawless biker gang.
They swarmed around my vehicle. One of them brake-checked me and even though I have superhuman reflexes the laws of physics prevented my vehicle from decelerating in time. I struck the crotch rocket, sending him flying to the pavement, no doubt suffering permanent debilitation as a result of his stupidity.
Before I knew what was happening the rest of them were swarming me. One of them rode up besides my SUV and swung his helmet at the driver's door. Realizing the danger I faced, I did the only logical thing: I reached in to the compartment between the front seats, pulled out my piece and put two in his chest.
The bikers were after me for a while. I drove several of them off the road (no doubt killing or paralyzing most of them), then I realized that half their group had set off for the local airfield. They had commandeered a helicopter and were using that to follow me. Well, I did the only thing I could: I steadied my steering wheel with my feet and, after taking careful aim, emptied my clip in to the helo. I severed the fuel line to it's primary rotor with my bullets, and it crashed, with a fiery explosion, on to a large group of bikers following me.
I was about out of gas at that point so I had no choice but to pull over. I got out of my car, pointed my index fingerat the biggest, meanest looking biker thug in the group, and gestured him to come at me. I snapped his neck with my bare hands before anyone could even blink. They all came at me then; I hastily took the chain he was using as a belt and fashioned it in to a crude weapon. I must've knocked out two dozen of them before their leader approached.
"You're MaxPayne63," he said. His face was cold; emotionless. I could tell by the scar on his right cheek that he had seen his share of hand to hand combat. "I've heard of you. I've heard you are a tough guy. Well, you don't look so tough."
"I've never heard that twice," I said. He cracked his knuckles and approached me.
The leader of the bikers was a tall man, maybe 6'4". He was a lot bigger than me, but, using my wits and my skill and my superhuman reactions, I managed to get the best of him. He lashed out agaisnt me, and I dodgded. I hit him with a left jab, then a right hook for the KO. Piece of shit criminal.
I rifled through his clothing, on a hunch, and found a suspicious message on his cell.
'We're going to kidnap the president on November 12th, at the following location. Our man on the inside is in position.'
In a moment of self-contemplaion, I focused my steely gaze on the phone. They're going to kidnap the President! They had a man on the inside, so I couldn't contact the authorities. I made note of the time and place, smiling to myself as I finally answered the question posed to every man of my generation: ARE YOU A BAD ENOUGH DUDE TO RESCUE THE PRESIDENT?
I also found $100,000,000 of bearer bonds taped to his chest. The wages of sin I thought with disgust; well, I would put them to good use on nothookers and notblow.
It was then I noticed another vehicle which was stopped on the freeway. I heard rapid breathing coming from it. Maybe another biker? I approached it, cautiously, ready to knock out whatever scum as using it as a refuge. I spotted a young woman inside an expensive looking vehicle. When she looked at me she seemed terrified.
"No need to be frightened, miss," I said, reaching my hand out to her. "The bikers are all gone."
"Oh, thank you. They have been terrorizing everyone on this road for months. The police couldn't stop them. You are my hero."
She had a very pleasing figure. Pretty face. Well-defined muscles. Maybe she was a dancer or gymnast, I thought.
"I'm not a hero, miss. I'm just a man."
"Indeed you are," she said, brushing her curly blonde hair away from her face. "So what is my hero's name?"
"People call me MaxPayne63."
"Hello, MaxPayne63," she said. "My name is Shakira."
"Shakira," I said. "Is it true your hips don't lie?"
"Well," she said, walking around to the passenger side of my car before getting in, looking over her shoulder at me and smiling in the process.
She mischeviously grinned and said, "You're about to find out."
[The rest of this story has been omitted since this is a family friendly forum, though I give you my word that it is 100% accurate and true. Would MaxPayne63 lie to you on the internet?]