by Logan Jacobs
But, then there was the other part of me, the part of me that knew that there were others that were counting on me. Counting on the fact that no matter how tired I was, or exhausted, or spent, that I would continue to fight. Continue to get back up. Never give up until the job was done.
“Oh, fuck this,” I muttered to myself, gathered my legs up under me, sucked in a painful breath of air, and exploded outward with all the energy I had.
It wasn’t a fancy martial arts move by any stretch of the imagination. It was more desperate tackle the quarterback before he throws the winning touchdown. My shoulder caught Li in the stomach as I pushed outward from the glass wall and I picked him completely off the ground. It took him by surprise, and he let up on his assault as I lifted him across the ring for ten feet and then drove my shoulder, and subsequently his back, into the ground with all the force of my five foot eleven, one hundred and eighty pound frame.
Li’s air went out of him in a whoosh, and I thought for a second that I might have just won the fight, but the little bastard was as tough as he was fast. He managed to use the momentum of my drive and rolled onto his back. The next thing I knew I flipped over the top of him as he used his feet to push me up and over.
My fighting senses were completely back online now, however, and instead of landing on my back I pulled my legs down as fast and hard as I could so that I landed on my feet. I tucked immediately into a roll to give me space and time so that I could spin around as I came up in a low, fighter's stance.
Just as I turned and brought my hands up, I watched as Li did a nifty kick off the ground, without the use of his hands I might add, and turned to face me again.
While he had managed to take the force of my tackle better than most, I could see that it had taken some wind out of his sails, figuratively and literally. He was much slower and more deliberate on his approach this time around.
We started to circle each other, slowly as we began to close the distance.
“You have a tremendous will, Mr. Bruce,” Li said in his lilting, slightly accented voice. “I did not expect you to come back from my last attack.”
“Well, you are a hell of a lot stronger than you look, Li,” I panted. “I know dudes a lot bigger than you who haven’t gotten up after something like that.”
“Regardless of the outcome of this fight, I would like to share a beverage with you,” Li said.
“Buddy, I’d like that too, but you are gonna have to get in line,” I smiled at him. Damnit, if I wasn’t starting to like the son of a bitch.
“Well, we better get to it,” he said.
“Yup,” I replied. “Can’t disappoint the Sultan.”
He smiled at me, and then I caught a small tilt of his head that gave me a much needed millisecond to prepare for the flying kick he launched into. Had I not caught the small, almost imperceptible telegraph of the blow he would have knocked my head from my shoulders.
Just before his outstretched foot was about to connect with the middle of my face, I spun away on my right foot as I drug my left foot back in a semi-circle. My left arm came up to hook his leg as I drove my right forearm into the back of his outstretched knee while I continued on my spin. During our little chat I’d let myself drift back toward the glass wall suspecting that he might try an aerial attack so that once I caught the kick and spun my body, I slammed Li right into the glass.
He hit with a hard, wet, smack and crimson blood smeared across the glass as he bounced off.
The crowd went wild.
Again, I was impressed by Li’s toughness. He didn’t stay down long, and I had to jump back out of the way as he tried to sweep my legs. Blood poured from his nose, and I could easily imagine the pain he had to fight through. He came at me again with another flurry of punches, but these didn’t have near the force or speed of the first round.
I caught a glancing blow off the side of my head that made my ears ring and Li was able to get inside my guard. Instead of trying to force him out, I grabbed hold of him, and we both fell to the floor.
Li scrambled around to try to get on top of me. Suddenly I was pummeled by the little guy's elbows which felt as hard as stone. While his upright game was devastating, he wasn't as sure of himself once we hit the ground. I managed to keep a grip on his wrist as I spun around until his head and shoulders were pinned between my legs in a classic armbar.
He wriggled and tried as hard as he could to get out, but I just leaned back until his shoulder was strained to the breaking point.
“Come on, Li,” I panted and gasped. “Don’t make me pop your shoulder, man. We both know you can’t get out of this.”
Li struggled for a second longer and then closed his eyes as he tapped the ground with his free arm.
“And we have a winner!” The announcer said as he descended from one of the platforms above the ring on his harness. “Bruce Van Damage defeats Li Jun-fan by tap out in quite possibly the most exciting fight we’ve seen so far, folks! Let’s give both these amazing fighters a huge round of applause.”
I unwrapped myself from Li, got to my feet and then extended my hand to help him up. Li looked at my hand for an incredulous second, then took it tightly and allowed me to help him to his feet.
“You fight with honor, Mr. Bruce,” Li said as he wrapped in a post-fight hug. Then, he whispered in my ear. “Or should I say, Marc Havak?”
I pulled away and looked at him incredulously. He held his finger in front of of lips and winked as if to tell me that my secret was safe with him.
“Alright, enough love out of the two of you two sportsmen!” The announcer said as he tried to usher us out of the ring. “Go get a drink later, we have more fights!! Up next Nora Roussey of the Ukraine, versus, Cinderblock McGillicutty of county Limerick, Ireland.”
One of the white-clad ring servants escorted me to the exit, and I passed Nora, aka Nova, on her way in. She had on shorts that were about as short and tight as mine and an equally tight sports bra that try as it might, had a very hard time keeping her large breasts from bursting out. Nova gave me the slightest nod as we passed each other.
I held up just outside the ring entrance to watch the fight.
Nova walked to the center of the ring to meet Cinderblock, whose name was not some cute epithet. His head was roughly the shape of a cinder block. He stood a good six foot three and must have weighed in at close to three hundred pounds of thick slabs of muscle. Cinderblock towered a good head over Nova as he sneered down at her.
“Huh, wee lass thinks she can hang with the lads?” Cinderblock said loud enough for the announcer's mic to pick up in a thick Irish brogue. “Lass gonna find out the hard way some boys don’t mind hittin’ girls.”
Nova just kept her mouth shut and stared at him.
“Well, well, rough words from the bare-knuckle champion of Ireland,” the Announcer chuckled nervously. “You all know the rules by now. Have a good fight and may the toughest fighter win. Fight!”
Again, he shot out of the ring on his harness as the crowd roared for the beginning of the fight.
Cinderblock flexed his muscles as he threw a few quick jabs in the air as he advanced slowly on Nova who just stood motionless in front of him.
“Better get those hands up, lassey, before I--” Cinderblock started to say. He didn’t get to finish.
The second he got in Nova’s range she brushed one of his jabs out of the way and hit him with a massive uppercut that connected solidly with his chin so hard we all heard the sound of his teeth crashing together in a loud “dumpster truck slamming into a building” sound.
The force of the blow literally lifted him off his feet until he was horizontal where he seemed to hang, defying gravity, for a long beat before he crashed to the ground.
Cinderblock did not attempt to stand up. He didn’t even try to get to his knees. He just lay flat on his back, knocked completely the fuck out.
The crowd was stunned into silence. Unsure of what they had just seen.
Nova didn’t
wait for them to catch up, she held her hand in the air in victory, turned and began to walk toward the exit of the ring.
“Um, and…” the announcer stammered as he floated down into the ring with a half-drunk glass of champagne in the hand not holding the microphone. “Nora Roussey wins by knockout… Um, please give us a few moments to drag Cinderblock out of the ring and make sure the next fighters are ready. Man, that was over quick.”
Eventually, the crowd regained their senses and began to chant “Nora, Nora, Nora.”
Nova walked out of the ring and stopped briefly right next to me.
“Show off,” I whispered.
“He was an asshole,” she whispered back.
“Word,” I said simply.
Chapter Eight
“Bravo to all the contestants today, winners and losers,” the tall, slender, almost effeminate Arab in the bespoke, cream-colored suit said from his perch ten feet above the floor. His dark skin stood out in stark contrast to the light blue shirt he had chosen to wear with the suit and his immaculately groomed beard framed his large, brilliantly white, perfect smile.
He addressed the crowd as someone used to holding the attention of a large crowd, especially of those he knew he was more powerful and wealthy than. The gold and diamond watch on his wrist caught the light from the opulent chandeliers that hung from the ceiling of the penthouse we were now in and practically dripped money. He clapped his graceful hands together to all those who stood below him and soon the crowd copied him.
“As most of you know, I am the one who is called the Sultan of Savages,” he began. “My family, once nomadic bedouins, began this competition as a fight in the desert some three hundred years ago. I am proud to continue the legacy. It was a wonderful first day of fighting that my ancestors would indeed be proud of. Tomorrow, we will begin the next round of challenges and the fights will become more and more brutal. Tonight, however, eat, drink, and enjoy. Please save any aggression for the ring. What is mine is yours this evening. Rada altahia.”
Everyone clapped again. The Sultan took in the applause for a few moments and then moved away from the balcony he had been standing on in a rush of bodyguards. Upbeat music began to play as the DJ in the corner of the penthouse began to spin a lively mix of songs. The three hundred or so people in attendance, mostly competitors and their entourages, began to mingle.
PoLarr, Aurora, Chaz, Olivia, and I were congregated at two small, tall, bar tables situated in between the open bar and the amazing buffet. After Nova’s quick win, I’d returned to the box suite to get cleaned up and found that we had been offered a private penthouse suite in the hotel for the night. A servant had informed us that we could order any attire we wished from the high-end shops in the hotel and that we were to attend a party for all competitors and their attendees, which is where we were now.
Everything had happened rather quickly after arriving, and we hadn’t really had a chance to confer with Nova and her crew since we parted company earlier in the day. I’d chosen the spot in between the bar and food knowing that it would give us the best chance to “mingle” without drawing attention.
I sipped absently on a glass of Macallan Fine and Rare, served neat. The shit normally retailed for about thirteen grand a bottle, so I was going to be damn sure to enjoy it while I scanned the crowd for our friends.
PoLarr stood just next to me in a gorgeous Zuhair Murad red beaded tulle floral gown and looked every part the high-fashion model girlfriend. Aurora stood on my other side and looked seductive and just this side of slutty in a black Bondage Angela Girdle Dress by Bordella with matching stockings and purple Manolo Blahnik’s with three-inch heels that matched her hair perfectly. Chaz had traded his tracksuit for a somewhat tasteful, yet still outlandish, light blue tuxedo. I’d decided on a simple, two-piece Gucci tuxedo in navy blue with black lapels and piping.
Olivia was the one who had really gone outside of her norm and had turned more than a few heads when we walked in. Her tall, yet shapely frame looked fucking stunning in a dark blue, backless, full-length Stella McCartney silk dress that also had a plunging neckline that went almost to her navel and clung to all her curves as if by magic. In stark contrast to what she wore, she took a long pull on a yellow labeled Shiner Bock beer.
“Wow, this is really freaking good,” Olivia said as she wiped a dribble of the amber liquid from her lips.
“It is a tasty beer,” I agreed. “My second fav behind Guinness.”
“Huh, me too,” Thomas said from behind me.
“There you guys are,” I replied and then noticed it was just him at the moment. He was in a tux that was incredibly similar to the one I had picked out, only with a more American cut to the suit which looked more appropriate on an older gentleman. “Wow. Nice tux. Where’s the rest of the crew?”
“They are on their way,” he replied as he moved to the table next to ours. A very scantily clad bar waitress approached him immediately. “Double Eagle Very Rare 20 please, neat.”
“Right away, Mr. Segal,” the waitress said and gave him more than a lingering look.
“Holy shit,” I said and nearly spit out the sip of my drink I had just taken. “That’s like, what, a twenty thousand dollar bottle of whiskey?”
“Twenty-five,” Thomas replied with a wicked grin. “Hey, when in Dubai, right? Sure beats the boiled cave water I was drinking six months ago.”
“Here you go, sir,” the waitress returned quickly and set the crystal tumbler of dark liquid in front of Thomas. “If there is anything you need… or want… anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Thomas said and winked at her as he took a sip of his drink.
“Appears that looks and butt-kicking weren’t the only things he passed on to you, eh, sugar?” Aurora asked devilishly.
“I guess so,” I replied flatly. Inside it did make me smile a bit, and I did feel a little pride that some of what made me, well me, did come from my dad, but I didn’t want him to know it yet. I’d only known he existed outside of my teenage wishes for about eighteen hours. “So, what’s our next move?”
“Well, that’s why I wanted to get down here a little early to talk to you about,” Thomas said as his eyes scanned the crowd. “I have an idea.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Olivia added.
“I spent most of the match earlier today,” Thomas began to explain. “By the way, Bruce, you need to keep your lead hand up more, you drop your guard as soon as punches start getting thrown. Your reflexes are fast enough that you manage to get it back up in time, but once those start to slow, you are going to get your clock cleaned more often than not.”
“I’ll take that under advisement, thanks,” I said pissily. He was probably right, but again, I’d known him for less than a fucking day and didn’t really appreciate getting fighting notes from him.
“Anyway,” Thomas said. “I spent most of the match watching the Sultan. His executive suite box is across the oval from ours and, let’s just say he, um, enjoys the company of well-endowed ladies.”
“If you want me to go seduce that slick asshole, you are going to have to come up with another plan,” Olivia blurted out.
“While you are not without prodigious physical attributes, Opal,” Thomas smiled at her then turned to Aurora. “He likes them incredibly, almost ridiculously, well endowed.”
“I have no problem seducing the slick asshole,” Aurora shrugged. She took a final sip of the Cosmopolitan she had ordered when we arrived and fluffed her purple hair. “No time like the present, eh, sugars?”
“Get up to his room, get rid of the guards, then signal us, and we’ll meet you there,” Thomas finished out the plan.
“Will do,” Aurora said and began to walk away. I caressed her waist and leaned over to her. She kissed me on the cheek and then sauntered off into the crowd.
“What do we do in the meantime?” PoLarr asked.
“Enjoy the party,” Thomas replied as he killed his drink.
“The buffet looked pretty damn amazing, so I’m going to eat. I’m starving.”
“I’m pretty hungry too, I guess,” I added. Thomas and I walked over to the long, elaborately decorated buffet table.
It sure as hell wasn’t Golden Corral.
It was one of the fanciest things I’d ever seen. From what I could tell there were four sections. The first was salad and appetizers. The second was chicken and seafood. Third red meat, and finally dessert. Each section took up an entire twenty-foot long table.
“Hey, Bruce,” Thomas said as he picked up a plate and began to fill it with vegetables. “Sorry if I came across as critical back there. It was just something I noticed. I used to do the same thing when I was younger and a former combat instructor pointed it out to me then. I promptly ignored him and ten years later I got my jaw dislocated when my left hand didn’t come back up to protect my face as fast as it once did. Just trying to save you a little future pain.”
“Um, thanks, I guess,” I replied as I picked up my own plate and headed right for the protein section of the tables.
“Sure thing,” Thomas said. “I have more than a bit to make up for.”
“These lobster tails look awesome, huh?” I asked to change the subject. I did not want to start having a heart to heart conversation with my long-lost father in the middle of a goddamn Mission Impossible mission to save the President’s daughter from space terrorists.
“Yeah, yeah they do,” Thomas replied. He tried to hide the disappointment in his voice but I caught it anyway. “I’m going to hit up the filet mignons.”
Both of us filled two giant plates full before we went back to the table.
“Oh, hey, thanks for bringing us some food too,” Olivia said when we returned.
“Oh, uh, yeah, totally, you’re welcome,” I said and hoped that I hadn’t given myself away that I had not had any intention of sharing the food.
We spent the next few minutes in silence as we dove into the veritable feast. It was all deliciously rich and tasted as if it were cooked by five-star chefs, which I assumed it had been. Before long it was all gone. I was about to go get more when a small, incredibly well dressed, Asian man came up to the table.