Fist to the Heart Ch. 18

"I won't do it," Johnny shrugged.

He could sense Ruslan's struggling against the man holding him, and hear his muffled angered cries. But he needed no distraction now.

"Oh, no? Even if I threaten your beloved?" Nigel gestured for the goon to push Ruslan into his arms.

Nigel held Ruslan and pushed the sweaty strands of hair out of his eyes. "Pretty. Is that what you call him? So sweet. Now here's the deal, Johnny. You fight, or I'll slash his throat right in front of you. I've always wanted to wreck something beautiful, you know?"

"Then you can slash his throat right now. If it's now or later, what does it matter?" Johnny said in a matter of fact voice, over the crack in his heart, over the thunder in his ears.

He could swear Ruslan's angered, but silent struggle was directed at him now. But there was only one way out, the only one he could see with the utmost clarity, no matter how many kicks to the head he had taken in his life.

"So you don't care? How precious," Nigel commented, but it was clear that the little scenario the scumbag had played in his head didn't go as planned.

"Let's make it interesting," Johnny said and stared straight at Nigel.

Looking at Ruslan now would ruin him. And Ruslan needed someone else now. He needed Snake, the crazy fighter, not Johnny, his fiancé, not the new, better version of him.

"If I beat up your so-called fighters, you let him walk," he said in a single breath.

Nigel began laughing hysterically. Long moments passed until he stopped, and then, he took his time, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his tears. "Ah, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny," he said with false affection, "now that's what I call an interesting deal indeed. And that's also what I call having your cake and eating it, too. I'll have you wrecked so badly. As for Ruslan, if you die, he'll be all mine to do as I please. Maybe I'll kill him. Maybe I'll fuck him first, and then kill him. Maybe I'll keep him. Ah, so many possibilities," he said with a long sigh.

"Do you have any idea who Ruslan's father is?" Johnny asked, searching Nigel's face for any sign of surprise.

The grin faded in an instant. "That Russian mobster? He'll learn his place once he knows I have his son."

That was good to know. It meant Ruslan was safe, at least from being killed by Nigel in a reckless suicidal gesture. But he could not live with just that. There was no way of telling what was in Nigel's head. His eyes were a bit manic, his laughter was nervous, and overall, he looked like he was about to come undone. Nigel was in a bad place, and crazy people in bad places spelled danger in capital letters.

No, that wasn't enough to know for sure that Nigel wouldn't hurt Ruslan. Johnny had barely met Vladimir. The man was clearly some big shot, but this wasn't his turf. So he needed to put it all on one card and play it with every bone, and muscle, and fiber of his being.

"So, you're not afraid?" Johnny asked with a smirk. A well-placed fist from the man with the measles marks on his face made him work his jaw. "If you want a show, you shouldn't mess me up too badly. It would be bad for business if I go down from the first round, right?"

Johnny was carefully fishing for information. He needed details about the environment, about what Nigel had in mind. He could rely on his senses only this much, given that he was tied up and the dull pain pulsing at the base of his skull wasn't helping, either. If Nigel just wanted to have fun killing him, he didn't need Johnny in a ring. There was something there he needed to find out.

"I guess you have a point," Nigel said and smiled.

The guy's left eye was twitching. He was putting on a big show of keeping it together, but on the inside, Nigel was a wreck. Johnny knew that could be an advantage, but also a big problem. There was no way of telling what Nigel would do.

"So, big audience?" Johnny continued.

Nigel grinned. "All set. Just let me put it like this, Johnny. The bets will go about how long you'll keep standing. Not if you win. That's not going to happen."

"I have conditions," Johnny said.

A lot of witnesses meant lousy planning. It was one aspect he was counting on.

"Do you think you're in any position to ask for that kind of thing?" Nigel expressed his surprise.

"I want to see Ruslan there. I want him there. I want to see him walk when I win."

Nigel made an annoyed gesture, but in a second, his face lit up with another ugly smile. "I suppose I could have him watch you die. It would be fitting."

Johnny could feel again that something that he could not put his finger on. "Why?"

"Well, let's call it a bit of sentimentalism on my part. My father had my mother watch while he killed your deadbeat dad."

Johnny could feel all his blood rushing to his feet. But he kept his bearings. "And then what did he do? Did he kill your mother, too?"

Nigel moved his head so fast that Johnny could swear he heard bones cracking. He decided to put more pressure on the wound. "Is that why you offed your daddy? Did he tell you what he did?"

It was a shot in the dark.

"Shut the fuck up! You know nothing!"

Johnny hadn't known until now. It was all clear. But he could not think of his dad now. The only thing he could do was to focus on saving Ruslan, and that was all.

"Maybe I don't," he said and tried to lean back into his chair as much as the ties allowed him. "Are you going to keep me like this until this show of yours starts?"

Nigel smiled, pleased with himself now. "It will be your show, Snake." He spat Johnny's ring moniker with disgust.

But there was something else in Nigel's voice, and that was fear. It was something Johnny knew all too well, and he had seen it in plenty of men who stood their ground and were better people in every way than this scumbag. But fear, the great equalizer, was in the cards, and Johnny was trying to find ways to capitalize on that.

"What should I expect? How many scumbags do you have lined up for me?"

"Enough to see you down. I'll have your pretty lover watch you bleed to death. It will be my pleasure. Put on a great show, and I might let him live."

"You'll let him live, or his daddy will eat your heart for breakfast."

Nigel's manic laughter returned. He was hiccupping, making strange sounds that even his men were watching him warily. Good. If it was any doubt in them about who their boss was, that was good.

"I might," Nigel admitted. "But he might not be exactly whole when I'm done with him. I might take a souvenir from him, something that will remember him of knowing me, more than I'll remember him. His pinky, maybe?" He appeared to ponder over his choice.

Johnny wasn't scared. He knew that Nigel could be crazy enough to harm Ruslan, fuck the consequences, but he could not allow himself to feel fear over that. There was only one thing to focus on, and Nigel lucked out. All his life, Johnny had done nothing but fight. The ring was his life, and Johnny was good at surviving. Right now, he fought for something more important, or better said, someone.

His eyes didn't look for Ruslan. His decision was taken. He stared at Nigel. "Say, Nigel, do you want that show or not? Untie me."

"And let you have a swing at me? I'm not stupid."

Nigel looked at him as if he was trying to read him.

"There are three men with you in this room only. And more outside, right? So I can't do a thing."

Nigel shifted from one foot to another. "Later. Now say buh-bye to your fiancé."

Johnny could not avoid his eyes as Ruslan was pushed into him into an awkward position. By what he could tell, his lover was tied up, too.

"What? You don't want to kiss him?"

Johnny looked at Ruslan only for a second. "You make sure he's there and in one piece. Leave the rest to me. And don't forget your fucking promise. If I win, he walks."

"Fine," Nigel said with an exaggerated sigh. "And if you don't, he dies."

Johnny could feel his teeth clamping together hard. "I thought you had other plans."

"I changed my mind," Nigel shrugged. "I feel like you need proper motivation. Maybe you're right. It's my show, after all. And no one ruins my party. Also, don't worry. Once you're down, you'll see him die. I won't let you go without knowing I kept my promise."

Fucking crazies, Johnny thought. A slight hope was that maybe Vladimir's goons were looking for them right now. He needed to buy time. "How long until your so-called show?"

"Are in a hurry to get somewhere? Don't worry; you won't be late." Nigel laughed at his own bad jokes.

There were only a few snickers from the others. They played nice for the boss, but Nigel's position was shaky. That was also something Johnny counted on.

***

Johnny stared at his hands, his focus tunneled and quiet. There were old scabs and marks on them. With his two hands, he had bought so many days for himself throughout his life. To think that it all came down to that, to his two hands.

For once, there was something precious he held in them, much more precious than his sorry ass. He would win tonight, through any means necessary. Not only his hands, his entire body, and mind would fight for that, to keep Ruslan safe.

"Let's go." One of Nigel's goons gestured for him to move.

Johnny stood up and shed off his shirt.

"Trying to be a wiseass?" The man asked.

"I don't need it anymore."

It wasn't like Nigel had thought about giving him some gear to fight in it. Without any extra words, he took off his shoes and his socks. The goon was staring at him like he could not make sense of what Johnny was doing.

He needed to feel the ground under his feet. Also, the fewer clothes he had on, the better. It meant that his opponent didn't have much to grab on and put him down.

"Are you going to give me some gloves?" Johnny put his hands up.

"No gloves," the man said curtly. "Move your ass already."

For the last hours, Johnny had been left to his designs in a small room, and he had used it to warm up properly, get his entire body loose and ready. Everything he knew now came to help him. He might not leave Nigel's ring alive, but he wouldn't be defeated.

The man took him through what seemed like a labyrinth of narrow corridors. They were somewhere, under ground level. But, as he began to hear the roaring and excitement he knew so long from so many other fights, they began to climb a flight of stairs.

Johnny took in everything. His senses were all on high alert, and his mind was registering every smell, sound, and visual cue, preparing him.

He had heard before of heightened focus; something fighters felt when they were in the zone. They had this state of mind they had to thank for their biggest victories. Johnny had thought it all a bit of mumbo-jumbo. People often needed to make something magical and spiritual of the crucial moments of their lives. But right now, Johnny stood corrected. Never in his life had he felt so calm inside, ready to get through anything, be it hell or high water.

The intense light that hit his eyes the moment he was out of the corridor and into the ring area didn't assault him like it sometimes happened. Nothing worried him now. The time could stand still, and he wouldn't care.

Johnny put one foot in front of the other, climbing the ring, passing through the ropes, without paying attention to anything. Jumping up and down a little, he tested the ground underneath his feet. Then he searched with his eyes for his enemy.

Nigel sat on one side, apparently not particularly concerned with having a good view of the ring. He was sitting with his back against the wall, maybe knowing, on some primitive level, that he was far from being safe. Next to him, Ruslan was sitting, too, a goon keeping him. He still had that rope stuffing his mouth, and his head was hung low, his eyes staring down.

Johnny walked close to the ropes, on Nigel's side. The audience was already on their feet, shouting and throwing the usual profanities. Johnny ignored it all. "I want him close to the door. Not here."

Nigel stared at him, amused. Johnny's voice had been loud enough, but over all the noise, maybe it couldn't be heard so well. "I said," he shouted, "I want him close to the door!"

Eventually, Nigel made a sign for the goon holding Ruslan to come to him. After a short order, the man grabbed Ruslan and dragged him over to what looked to be an exit. Johnny had a good angle to see it. That was all he needed.

He nodded shortly and walked toward the center of the ring. He only had his pants on, part of some designer suit Ruslan had insisted he should wear. It would have been better to have only a pair of shorts on. Also, a pair of gloves. But it didn't matter. This way, he would do more damage, no matter the damage he would do to himself, too.

Johnny began to roll up his pants with measured moves, completely deaf to the noises around him. The promise of blood was making the spectators delirious. Johnny had no eyes, nor ears, for any of that.

Some announcer talked excitedly, probably introducing the so-called opponents. Johnny heard him say something about 'fight to the death' which made the crowd erupt. He knew whose death they were talking about. But that wasn't on his mind. It was just another thought of no consequence. It was under lock and key, and Johnny wouldn't look at it.

He waited calmly, his fists clamped down hard, by his sides. Adrenaline, pure like holy water, coursed through his veins.

The first fighter to climb into the ring looked like small time fish. Johnny understood it all now. They would seek to tire him before throwing some heavy hitters into the fight. That meant he needed to be efficient and conserve his energy.

He took in the man sent to the slaughter. Johnny could feel no empathy about what he would do. Some time ago, he had been like that. And now, for the only thing that mattered to him in the whole world, he would be that again.

The whistle was the only cue he needed. He waited calmly for the man to approach him. He was young, someone probably trying to make it up the ladder in whatever organization Nigel was running. There would be no ladder for you to climb. Sorry, kid.

His right fist erupted, hitting his opponent into his right temple, almost crushing the hand raised too late in defense. The young man fell to the ground as if the rug was pulled from under his feet. The noise died down. Even the announcer had trouble finding his words. Johnny walked over to the fallen man, grabbed him by one arm, and pulled him toward the ropes. Using one foot, he pushed him down, making him fall at Nigel's feet.

"Next," he said.

Nigel's pupils were dilated. Even a few feet away, Johnny could make the white of his eyes. The man was in shock, even if he was clever enough not to admit it verbally.

Someone moved behind him, and Johnny sensed the air shifting. One fraction of a second late and he would have been hit in the neck. Just in time, he caught the attacker's stretched palm, most probably ready to apply some karate move. Without blinking, he closed his fist over the man's hand, until he heard bones cracking, and their owner howling in pain.

This one he didn't need to throw at Nigel's feet. He scurried away, nursing his crushed hand, and shrieking like a wounded animal, the moment Johnny let him free. The crowd shot to its feet, the noise deafening. Johnny searched the ring with his eyes. What would they throw at him next?

Ah, they were upping the ante. From two different angles, two men who looked stronger than the first contenders began to circle him. Johnny noted their hyena-like faces and kept his cool. Who would be first to attack? They moved a lot, trying to confuse him.

In any fight, Johnny knew well, there was a calculation of sorts any fighter had. Some kicks you can't avoid. But don't let the sum of them bring you down. He let the one to the left bruise his arm but turned on his heels just in time to hit the other square in the face, making blood shoot out of his nose like a gory fountain.

The other tried to aim for his head, but Johnny ducked fast and took his legs in one swift move. How many amateurs would they bring in? He kicked the man down into his stomach, making the eyes bulge in his head and then turn to one side heaving and coughing. This was a battle with no rules. He had no gods to keep him accounted for his actions now.

Some other men came to take away the fallen fighters. Johnny rested against the ropes, his back to Nigel. It was a bold move, he knew, seemingly ignoring his enemy like that. But he wanted to know when the real fight would begin. There was ruckus on the opposite side, and Johnny could tell some of those who had first enthusiastically subscribed to have a piece of him were having second thoughts now.

"Who else?" Johnny shouted, raising his arms.

They would send in the heavy artillery now. The sooner, the better. Ruslan's freedom hung in the balance. Nigel might not have believed him before when Johnny told him he would win, but seeing the truth might make him break his promise.

Finally, a man who looked like a real fighter, dressed up in gear to prove it, climbed into the ring. A heavyweight, Johnny evaluated him.

"I'll fight you," the man said shortly.

This one was a real danger. Johnny could tell. The man was sullen, not one ounce of bravado in his eyes. He was calculating, deciding his first move, not rushing in like the idiots before him.

"Come at me," Johnny challenged him.

The man didn't budge. He calmly assumed a stance that told Johnny right away he was dealing with an experienced fighter this time around. The only thing Johnny could see as an upside for him was that the fighter looked older, somewhere well into his forties. But Johnny had fought Martin many times while training to know that age was not automatically a drawback if the man still had his wits about him and knew how to use his experience to his advantage.

For seconds, they stared at each other. Johnny knew one of them had to move, and soon. Dragging this was not in his favor, and the other knew it. Douglas's words rang into his mind, reminding him that he needed to step into the other's space more if he wanted to be more efficient.

But how? The other fighter was holding his guard up, in perfect form, and was staring at him over his gloves.

"Are we going to sit here all day?" someone from the audience yelled.

Snickers and whistles poured from all directions. The crowd was booing. Johnny would not have cared for that type of pressure before, but this was different. As unorthodox as that was, he appeared to give in and moved.

As expected, the fighter dodged his move. But Johnny hadn't put all his weight into it, so he had enough time and memento to steer clear of the kick that followed. The man's fist met nothing by air.

Now wasn't the time to give his opponent a breather. Johnny grabbed the opportunity and launched a kick with his left, even though he was in no position to put all his strength behind it. That was enough for the other fighter to block it.

Johnny took one step back. He was getting close to the ropes, and he knew that was a dangerous move. Suddenly, something hit him from behind. He jerked away and stepped aside so that he could see his invisible opponent.

The ugly man from before was grinning at him. Johnny had no time to deal with him. He needed to stay away from the ropes. It was a lawless fight, so that meant that he could expect anything from Nigel and his posse.

He moved toward the center where the other fighter was waiting for him. The crowd was booing, apparently annoyed with all the stalling.

It wasn't Johnny's style to be desperate. But this was the hand he had been dealt, and there was no other. He needed to use his superior strength to dominate the situation. He moved toward the other, assaulting him, tying him up, and striking him to the head while ignoring how the man's well-aimed punches rained on his sides.