Fist to the Heart Ch. 18

Without one smidge of regret, Johnny pushed himself back enough to have the force to put into a knee to the man's belly. The man doubled over, taken by surprise, and Johnny used punches and kicks to bring him down.

Fast, fast, fast. That was all he could think of. Fighters of this man's caliber could not be easy to find. Many fighting locally were still loyal to Efige. So Nigel could not have many aces up his sleeve. The faster he got rid of such difficult opponents, the better. He also aimed at destroying his enemy's confidence and his acolytes' morale.

Caught up in destroying his opponent, he lost sight of the bigger picture for a moment. The man twisted his body fast and hit Johnny so hard and quick in the face that his head snapped back.

Johnny staggered but got back to his senses right away. However, the punch that followed almost knocked his lights out. That eye would swell. Funny thing, Johnny thought, to worry about such a thing when it wouldn't take too long for him to be dead once the fight was over.

The fight wasn't over, though. Go away, he told his thoughts and put his guard up once more. The next punch made him shake on his feet, but this time, he was prepared. The man before him was a good fighter, but his stamina could not be as good as Johnny's. He must have put all he got into that.

Johnny took advantage. While the man's fist was still far from withdrawing, his own shot forward like a sling, hitting the man right in the chin, making him take a few awkward steps back and fall on his back with a thud.

"Snake! Snake! Snake!" the crowd chanted now.

There was no time to celebrate. But having the audience on his side served an important purpose, and Johnny knew it. He waved toward the crowd, and then hurried to the side from where Nigel watched.

The man was short of starting to eat his hanky.

"Any others? Do you have any others?"

Nigel gestured for one of his men to come closer. Johnny felt unease creeping in. What would happen next? There was movement again, and this time, there were many people climbing the ring.

Johnny's eyes shot frantically around. Too many. There were just too many. This wasn't a fair fight, just how many fucking times did he have to tell that to himself? Growling low in his chest, he grabbed the man closest to him and head-butted him, sending him over the ropes without leaving him one chance to fight back.

One jumped on his back, but Johnny just grabbed the hands keeping him, twisting the fingers backward, and began turning around, using that opponent as a human cannonball. When he sent that one flying, taking another with him, the crowd cheered.

There were still so many. Johnny could feel his breath coming in short. There was no time to be gassing out now. He withdrew to one corner and focused on his breathing. Two men hurried toward him, but he grabbed them both by the necks, ignoring their kicks and punches and smashed their heads together, letting them fall at his feet.

The others were watching him warily. The force was in numbers, but these people were too stupid to see it, which was just Johnny's fucking luck. On one side of the ring, Johnny was standing, looking at them, taking no step toward them, but making them, nonetheless, to take one back.

The crowd was singing his nickname, urging him to finish them all off.

The row of would-be fighters broke to leave one coming forward. Johnny's could feel his temples throbbing. So there was, after all, one ace up Nigel's sleeve that he just now threw into the fight.

The cockroach. Johnny had the experience of fighting the man. However, what happened before had nothing in common with the current situation. This one was tough, and even without mind games, he was still dangerous, and Johnny knew it.

"Are you guys afraid of this bitch?" the cockroach sneered and put his guard up.

Johnny knew he needed to take him out and fast. Vallejo was no easy feat on his own, but with an army to keep his back, he could be tricky to beat.

He, too, put his fists up. There was no time to think about the pain, the raw pain coming in waves from where he hit with bare fists the others before.

"Let's get him," Vallejo spat, and the others moved at the same time.

Johnny had no time to think about his next move. His eyes set on his main opponent, he jumped. His fist connected with Vallejo's forehead. The man stood his ground, but it didn't matter. Johnny wasn't counting on that hit to take down his opponent. But he counted on bringing him down, by pushing against him with his entire body.

They were both on the floor now, and Johnny pressed hard, sneaking his hands so that he could circle the man's neck from beneath. The strong muscles under his fingers weren't giving in, but Johnny knew a thing or two about human anatomy, to find that place that no muscles could protect. His thumbs began closing down fast over Vallejo's windpipe, pressing.

The others were on him, kicking him, punching him, but Johnny didn't feel a thing. His eyes bore into his opponent, and Vallejo was starting to realize he had miscalculated. The fighter's face was turning fast into a deep red, then a tinge of blue.

Johnny had once sworn he would never go through this again, the knowledge that he had taken a life, with the utmost certainty. But he might have already crossed that line tonight, so nothing mattered anymore.

His head was pulled back sharply, and he couldn't breathe. Someone had put a bag over his head, blocking his vision, and leaving him without air.

Against himself, his body moved on its own, his grasp on Vallejo's neck waning. Soon he was on his back, and a rain of hits was pelting his entire body from all sides. He moved his hands quickly to his face, his blunt nails trying to dig into the bag over his head and tear it apart.

"Let him watch me while I kill him!" He heard someone shouting.

The bag was pulled from his head, and just then, a punch landed straight into the middle of his face. His nose had to be broken, he thought for a fraction of a second, and putting all his strength into his kick, he raised one leg fast. It hit something, and that was all that mattered. The scream that followed told Johnny it had landed where he wanted, too.

He pulled his knees to his chest, rolled and jumped to his feet. Vallejo was on the ground, grabbing his groin and bawling like a baby. Without a word, Johnny pushed aside the others around him and hit Vallejo in the head with his feet, over and over again.

At the same time, he was using his arms to push the others who were trying to get him. The man's face beneath his feet was turning into a tumefied mass, and soon there was movement only because Johnny continued to hit it.

With blood in his eyes, he turned toward the rest. In a frenzy, he began to punch and kick, without thinking, without strategizing, wanting, needing to get to the end of it all, to see them all dead, finished, at his feet.

The men around him tried to hit him, but Johnny was beyond caring about anything at this point. Each punch and kick he landed, there were sounds of bones cracking, shouts, and desperate cries.

The crowd was threatening to bring down the house. Around Johnny, there was a circle of bodies, some of them still moving, but no one else was standing.

Barely breathing, sweat and blood getting in his eyes, Johnny moved toward the ropes once more.

"Make him walk! I want to see him walk!"

"Johnny!" he heard someone calling for him desperately. "Johnny!"

He knew that voice. He knew that voice so well. Why did they let his mouth free now? It would have been better if they had just kicked Ruslan out the door with that improvised gag still keeping him quiet.

He dreaded that. But he needed that, just the same. He looked over, at Ruslan who was calling for him, the goon still keeping him. Without a word, he raised his right fist and tapped his chest. He held his fist to the heart while watching the love of his life, already so far away from him.

But the goon didn't seem to care that he needed to let Ruslan go. Johnny turned his attention on Nigel and saw him laughing.

Without a moment to think it over, Johnny jumped over the ropes and was all over Nigel. The man was like a puppet in his arms. Soon, his strength would leave him, but there was still enough for this. "Do you wanna know how I got my nickname?" he whispered into Nigel's ear while cutting his air supply. "Do you wanna know why they call me Snake?"

The man with measles marks on his fast pulled out a gun and held it to his head. Johnny grinned.

"Pull that trigger, and who knows what might happen? Your boss might end up dead, anyway."

The goon seemed to waver.

"Just make him walk!" Johnny shouted. "Make him walk!"

"Make him walk! Make him walk!" The crowd began to chant, at this point probably not knowing what it was saying, but part of a collective mind that was there only to echo the words of its champion.

Nigel was starting to flail his arms. The goon with the gun made a sign for the other holding Ruslan. Johnny watched as the man at the door pulled Ruslan away and disappeared from view.

The next second, the butt of a pistol hit him at the base of his skull. These guys had a thing for that.

***

The goon dragging him was strong, and Ruslan had decided to quit struggling a long time ago. But right now, there was too much at stake. The tears were drying on his face. "Just let me the fuck go already!" he shouted.

The goon laughed. "Do you really think that's going to happen, pretty boy? The boss has big plans with you."

"He promised Johnny!"

"No shit," the goon replied.

Ruslan stared down. Bad thinking on them to tie his hands in front this time. Beside the self-defense lessons, Johnny had taught him many other things. Throughout that horrible match, he had silently worked on making the ties go loose, little by little.

Without a word, he stepped the goon on one foot hard. "What the fuck?" the man yelled.

Ruslan turned fast and didn't hesitate. With both hands clasped into a tight fist, he punched the man in one eye. The goon stumbled, and Ruslan hurried, pulling one arm free, grabbing the man's gun and hitting his temple.

Without looking back, he began running. He needed backup and needed it fast.

The long corridor led into a street, and Ruslan breathed in the evening air like his lungs had been deprived of air for hours. To his left, he noticed a more crowded street. He ran in that direction. A few passersby looked at him and moved away.

"What street is this?" he yelled at one of them.

A homeless resting against the wall yelled back at him what he needed to know. Without hesitation, Ruslan grabbed a man's phone while the guy was still talking on it.

"Hey!" The man yelled at him, but Ruslan ran away while punching in the numbers.

"Yanis!" he yelled into the phone. "I need you! It's Johnny! It's Johnny!"

He collapsed next to a wall while still talking to Yanis. It would take Yanis less than twenty minutes to get there. Twenty minutes Johnny didn't have.

TBC