“We’ve got the tattooed madman,” Danny said. “A man so dark he has a tattoo on his heart.”
The crowd oooh’ed.
The guy bounced from my chest and then tapped his chest, playing into the tattoo heart thing.
I just stared ahead, my hair in my face, wanting to finish this fast so I could get drunk. I felt like Shane was standing next to me, like he had done so many times. Telling me where to have my feet, how to hold my body, how to throw a punch. How to read the opponent without giving anything away.
“He’s evil,” Danny said. “Dark enough that hell refused him so he keeps coming back for more. Give it up for the freebird himself, Johnny!”
The crowd whistled and cheered.
“Now, next to me, standing still, readying himself, fists like hammers… the darkest soul I’ve ever met. Blood spilled before his feet. Death screaming in his hands. Anyone who sees him fight will never forget him. Those who have seen him before have already thrown all their money on his back. Meet… the one, the only… Wes.”
There was a time when the crowd cheering mattered to me. It made me feel good. It made me feel like people cared.
They didn’t fucking care.
They wanted their drinks. They wanted to see blood. They wanted to earn a little cash illegally. And they wanted to take someone somewhere to fuck them. It was all about money, violence, booze, and sex.
Danny backed away and lifted his glass. “Hey! This one is it. No bells. No stopping until there’s a winner. You go until… you either win or lose.”
Danny waved a hand and the fight was on.
Johnny came right at me, fists up, feet moving. He was a trained boxer. He knew how to move his shoulders. Taking a few quick shots, he tried to feel me out. To see how I’d react. Trying to get me to open up a little.
I let him swing three more times. A weak punch that hit my hands, a hook to my ribs, an uppercut that I backed away from. Sweat poured from his forehead already. He was overplaying himself. Getting his heart pumping way too much way too soon.
I circled with him for a little bit, just staring at him. The crowd started to boo, not liking the lack of action.
I threw my head back, clearing my hair off my face, and then opened my arms. That got the crowd cheering. Johnny stood for a second, wondering what the hell I was doing.
“Come on!” I yelled. “Take your shot!”
“Hit him!” Danny bellowed.
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Johnny.
Johnny took a shot and cracked me in the gut. It knocked the wind out of me for a second. He then grabbed my shoulder and brought a hard fist at my stomach again. I braced myself and accepted the hit. I threw my head forward, smashing my head against Johnny’s face. He flew back, arms out and waving, his nose opening.
I went after him then.
Left, right, a straight jab to the face.
He tumbled to the ground and remained there. He put a hand out and the entire room froze for me. All I could see then was Shane. A hand out, wanting an extra second. There were no seconds. There was just fighting. Fight until you lost. Shane did that though. He fought until he lost. But the fight kept going. Well, it wasn’t a fight then. It was an attack.
It took…
I felt a smack against my face and it sent me reeling. My right cheek started to throb with pain. Another hit to almost the same spot took me to one knee. I looked up and Johnny came down at me again. A third punch to the right side of my face. I put my left hand on the cool concrete ground and braced myself.
“Motherfucker,” Johnny growled.
His left foot came up at me. I balanced on my knees and grabbed his foot, twisting it until there was a loud pop. My fist came forward and I hit him in the balls. Johnny put his foot down and screamed in pain. His leg twisted. I lunged at him with my shoulder, taking out his knee. He collapsed to the ground, screaming, bleeding.
I pulled at him, positioning myself over his body.
“What is wrong with you?” Johnny screamed at me. “Fight like a fucking man.”
I brought my head down to his face, busting him open even more.
I then rolled off him and climbed to my feet. I stood there, watching Johnny writhe in pain. He wrestled with himself, trying to stand up. His ankle was broken, his knee torn to shreds. There was nothing he could do right now to win the fight. He couldn’t even stand the hell up.
The crowd cheered for me. The chants of Wes! echoed in my mind.
I didn’t see Johnny on the ground though. I saw Shane. His head smacking the ground, over and over. I screamed for him to just stay the fuck down. Every time his head hit the ground, he popped back up. It was like he wanted more. He wanted to die.
“He wanted to die,” I whispered.
The crowd suddenly turned on me.
I was the beast standing next to wounded prey. I was supposed to go in for the kill. All the men who bet on me. They bet on me to beat Johnny until he was out cold. Or until he quit. That’s where the money was. Aton made his money betting on me or betting on something I’d do.
“Kill him!” a voice boomed.