Game(4)

“Go f*ck yourself.”

He turned and walked toward the open floor. I followed behind and paused when I saw the crowd. There were people on the floor and the overflow above. It wasn’t the biggest fight but it was maybe the most important. This wasn’t sanctioned by Fiore though. There wasn’t money behind it. I wasn’t getting shit for this.

Well, that wasn’t true.

I guess… well… I wasn’t in the fight of my life… but I was fighting for my life.



~



The Fist, as he was called, was a couple inches shorter than me. But his left hand was huge. I didn’t know if it was some kind of birth defect or something, but his left hand was three times the size of his right. It was like he had a boulder for a fist and he wasn’t afraid to throw it around. He had a train tattooed on his left breast and a missile on his right side, from the top of his shorts up to his armpit. Very weird ink for sure.

The first time he hit me, I saw stars. I went back and felt like I was going to fall forever into oblivion. I opened my arms wide and caught my balance. I left myself exposed and let The Fist come running at me. He wound up with that big hand of his and I was ready for him.

I slipped to the side and let him charge by me. His natural reaction then was to look back. That’s when I made my attack. I came down with a hard right fist, right to his jaw. It spun his head around, turning his body. Two punches to his ribs sent him stumbling even more. I then kicked him square in the ass and sent him into the crowd of people. There was a mix of languages being shouted, all of them sounding angry.

The Fist was quickly tossed back into the fight. He looked like he had a golfball attached to his jaw. Damn, I really did have a nice right.

I put my hands up and nodded.

The Fist spun around and threw his fist like it was a shot put. I ducked, but he kept going. Around and around, swinging his large hand at me. He screamed as he did so. The son of a bitch walked me backwards, over and over. My eyes were intent on his fist, knowing that it could be the death of me.

I stayed with him knowing he’d either get dizzy and tired or I’d get a small opening and knock him the f*ck out. The second I would knock him out I’d go right for the door.

What about Shayna?

That was the last thing I needed. A prize? Some baggage? A pain in the ass woman? No. I didn’t need that. Nobody needed that.

I went back to the edge of the crowd.

I had to make my move since The Fist wasn’t losing steam just yet.

I waited for my opening and when I saw it, I curled up a tight fist. I figured if I hit him hard enough in the stomach, it would steal his breath and stop him.

As I started to come forward, an arm hooked into me.

“What the…”

Another arm hooked to my other arm.

“Bye bye, motherf*cker,” a voice whispered.

The Fist was right there, spinning, that boulder of a hand coming at me… faster by the second… closer by the second…

I turned my head and braced myself.

Part of me actually hoped he would just kill me.





6.


(Shayna)



Zander started to laugh the second his guys grabbed Finn. It was a deep laugh that turned into a cough. He’d cough and laugh so hard his face would burn cherry red and his eyes would water.

I gripped the railing and watched as The Fist swung and connected with Finn. The sound thudded over all the voices cheering and screaming. Finn’s head looked like it was going to snap from his spine. He was probably better off that way. Zander would find out all he could and then kill Finn. Even if Finn didn’t say a word, Zander would still kill him.

The two guys let Finn go and he collapsed to the ground.

Zander quickly started to clap and cheer.

The Fist turned and lifted his arms. His freak hand was disgusting to look at. The truth was that he had been in some accident that caused his hand to look different. His hand was all bone which made his fist really hard. Zander injected stuff into The Fist’s hand to make it swell up even more. For effect. To look really ugly. To scare people. And since this fight didn’t have any money being bet on it, The Fist was used like an attraction. So everyone would leave and talk about it. Then the next time Zander hosted a fight, the crowd would be bigger and he’d make more money.

A part of me almost felt bad for Finn, for stepping into all this. I had no idea where he came from or what kind of fights he was used to having, but this was a different world. A dark, underground world of violence, drugs, money, prostitutes, sex… you name it and Zander was in it.

Before Zander could rise to his feet and call the fight over, something unbelievable happened.

Finn started to move.

He pushed to his hands and knees and then rose up. Like nothing had happened.

“What the Christ?” Zander asked.

I didn’t mean to smile, but it was cool to watch. Then again, Finn should have just stayed down. Or gotten up and ran the hell away. Try to save his ass.

But he was honorable.

He stood and put his fists up.

He wanted to keep fighting.

So The Fist turned and was ready to do it again. And just like before, two of Zander’s guys grabbed Finn.

“Why?” I asked, not realizing I had said it out loud.

“Because the world is cruel,” Zander said. “Lovely Shayna, you know that. You’ve seen it. He doesn’t belong here. He’s the outcast. And he’s going to suffer for it.”