PUGILIST

by Peter Hallett

  “I have an idea.” I started to control my breathing, slowly taking in deep breaths and letting them out even slower. Every one I took hurt me less than the one before.

  “I had an idea. One that could have made us both a lot of money.” Dennehy had stopped pacing; he was standing perfectly still, his eyes locked on mine. “It was a good idea too. Allow me to retort... The idea was to have you fight for me, my very own pugilist. You’d make money, I’d make money, and we’d all live happily ever after.”

  “Sophia wouldn’t have.”

  “You think that my whore of a daughter deserves a happy ever after?” He pointed at her, his face reddening from anger.

  “I do.”

  “Sometimes the bad guys win... You should have learned that from your time in the army, Lucas.”

  “Do you want back what you’ve lost?”

  “I think I’ll just have Colossus beat you to a fucking pulp and then drop your body at Dead Man’s Lane.”

  “That doesn’t save you face. It makes you lose more... I’ll ask again, do you want back what you’ve lost?”

  “You’re really beginning to piss me off.”

  “Fight me.”

  “What?”

  “Fight your pugilist.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Get Colossus to film it on his cell. If you win, you’ve gained the time back that you lost; you’d have another fight with me that you can show your crowd, the recording on the cell. If you win you’ve saved face, the recording proof that no one fucks with Dennehy.”

  “And if you win?”

  “My family go free, so do I, and Sophia gets her happy ever after.”

  Dennehy looked at the floor of the cage and thought for a moment. Then he moved to Sophia and removed her gag. She spat in his face; he didn’t even wipe it away. “You motherfucker!” she screamed at him.

  “What do you think, sweetie? Do you think if Daddy fights your soldier it will fix his problems? You do know if I win...” Dennehy turned back to me. “I’d sell this bitch to the highest bidder just to get her out of my hair... The trouble is she wouldn’t go for much money now you’ve taken her virginity; she’s a soiled dove. The pure ones always bring more cash. I know because when I sold her mom to that Arab businessman, it was like I was practically giving her away.”

  Sophia spat at him again. It hit the side of his face. He sighed and turned back to her. “I fucking knew it. I fucking knew you got rid of her, all that shit about her dying in the auto wreck was just that, bullshit.” Sophia looked at me; a tear ran down her cheek. “How can you fight, Lucas? Look at you. You’re a mess... How can you fight without the order?”

  Colossus dropped. Logan stood over the big man, his fist still raised. He looked at me. “Now’s the right time, kid. Kick that fucker’s ass. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.” I limped toward Dennehy.

  He whipped his head from his downed hired muscle to me. He removed his tie and undid the top button of his shirt as I neared. Then he held his hands up, showed me his palms and then the back of them. “No gloves. Just like the old pugilists used to fight.”

  I raised my hands as he threw out a jab. My forearms took the shot and prevented it from connecting with my face. I’m not sure if it was the pain I was already feeling or if the older man just knew how to throw a well executed punch, but my bones rattled and shook me to my core.

  He threw another jab as he started to move around the cage. I parried the shot, slapped the fist just inches past my head, and then snapped my own jab out. Dennehy tucked his chin into his chest and my fist hit the top of his head. The crack that sounded was loud, and the pain that shot from my knuckles and down the full length of the bones in my arm, was tremendous.

  “That’s why they invented boxing gloves, to protect the fighter’s hands,” Dennehy said just before he threw a cross into my face, knocking me backward, almost forcing me to trip over my own legs.

  “Do you know why I wanted you to be my fighter, Lucas?” Dennehy hit me with two right hooks, each one forcing my head to whip to the side before and I dropped to the floor. “I wanted you because I used to box. I was a true pugilist though, no gloves, no ring, just clenched fists and the hay that was on the floor in the barns we used to fight in.”

  I spat blood again and was halfway back to my feet when Dennehy smashed a haymaker into my jaw. My face slapped into the floor of the cage, bouncing a few inches from it before settling. “I don’t have to go to a corner when you’re down. You don’t get a standing eight count. There’s no referee to check you’re okay to continue, to stop the fight if you’re too hurt.”

  I stood, Dennehy letting me; his hands up by his face, my blood on his knuckles, an evil smile beaming. I let the cage stop spinning. I narrowed my stare at him. “If there’s no referee, then there’s no rules, right?”

  “Correct,” he said as he snorted.

  I powered my foot into Dennehy’s left leg and he dropped onto his knees. “I learned that one from Logan. It’s all about spacing, isn’t it, sir?”

  “Sure is, kid,” Logan said as he smashed an elbow into Colossus’s face as he tried to stand. The big man dropped back to the hard concrete of the warehouse, out cold.

  Before Dennehy could stand I kicked him again, this time in the side of his head. The sound of the impact was gut-wrenching. He hit the floor of the cage but was soon trying to stand again.

  He drove a punch into my face when he was standing, which forced me to stumble backward. Then he reached into the jacket he was wearing. I reacted fast; I knew he’d be going for a weapon of some kind.

  I was right. He drew a knife. I pushed him from me with my right foot, digging my heel into his chest, trying my best to imitate the moves I’d seen the other fighters use in the cage or while they were warming up in the staging area, which gave me some room to maneuver, put some breathing space between me and the deadly blade.

  The knife came back at me from the opposite direction. That slash aimed higher, right at my head. I raised my left forearm and blocked the attack, hitting it into his own forearm, forcing the limb to shoot away from me and to his side.

  I grabbed the wrist of the hand that held the knife before he had a chance to go for me again. I pressed it into him, and held it against his leg, to keep him from stabbing at me, as I swung my head into his face.

  It was time to fight dirty.

  I had to if I had any chance of winning, of staying alive.

  He stumbled backward, but I didn’t let go of his wrist. While still holding tight, I kicked my right leg out and my foot connected with his knee, forcing him to drop onto it.

  I brought my knee into his face before he was able to stand, which knocked him over, onto his back. I twisted the wrist in the most awkward way possible, causing him to lose grip of the knife. It fell next to my feet.

  I kicked it away from us, somewhere I couldn’t see from my position. I’d have prayed he wouldn’t have been able to see it too, to not have a chance at grabbing it again, but then I remembered God didn’t give a shit about my family, so I didn’t bother. Instead I concentrated on what was right in front of me, what was real, what I could touch, what I could cause severe fucking damage to.

  My legs were kicked from under me. I lost grip on him and impacted on my back. He rolled on top of me and smashed a fist into my face, forcing my head to bounce off the floor. As my head was on the way back up to him he brought an elbow down, smashing my nose. I felt the blood run over my features as my head found the cage canvas again.

  “I can fight dirty too, you little prick,” he screamed, his spittle hitting my face.

  I lifted my hips and rolled so I was on top of him. He was soon fighting to get free though, so I brought my head down into his face. Then I placed a forearm on his throat, just like Logan had done to me in Sophia’s office to stop me from getting to the evil fuck, and pressed as much of my weight onto it as possible, while I positioned my legs so I would be able to stand.

&n
bsp; I smashed a knee into Dennehy’s groin. He doubled and I stood. I stomped a foot down at his head. He moved to the side and I just hit canvas. He grabbed my right ankle before I was able to stomp again and scooped my foot from under me. I fell on my back once more, the wind rushing from my lungs, an eruption of burning air.

  I’ve no idea how I was still able to function, to fight. My body was a mess; I was in more pain than I’d ever felt. The only thing I can compare it to is when a Taliban fighter had us pinned behind a small stone wall, laying down heavy fire. I’d already took a shot to my leg, the medic nowhere near me, but I was still able to crawl for a tree, to stand, to run, puffs of dust popping all around me from bullet impacts, to flank his position and take him out.

  Adrenalized anger.

  Dennehy didn’t mount me that time; he got to his feet and smashed one of them down into my stomach. The pain was tremendous. I doubled, forcing me to jackknife. He locked fingers around my throat and started to squeeze. I could tell by his grinding teeth and his wide eyes that I’d really pissed him off, he was going for the kill.

  “I gave you a chance. You could have been somebody, Lucas, but you threw it all away, just for a piece of pussy. So fucking sad.”

  I scratched at his fingers. It did nothing. I pulled at them, the same result. I was going dizzy, feeling sleepy again.

  I reached what I could. I jabbed my fingers, on both hands, at the his face. One hit an eye. He let go of my throat and stumbled away, clutching at the pain he was feeling. I grabbed at my throat, tried to rub some life into it, and took as many quick breaths as I could, each one feeling like I was trying to hock up knives, but oxygen was desperately needed, and in short supply.

  I stood. I blocked the kick that was aimed at me, managing to catch Dennehy’s foot in my hand. I kicked one of my legs out, hitting him in the leg he was standing on. He dropped to the floor.

  Dennehy was quickly on his feet again though; he was as much of a persistent fucker as I was. This time he didn’t kick one of his feet at me; he set them in a boxing stance once more and threw a right cross instead. I parried it and hit him with a hook to his kidneys.

  My next punch just smashed into his guard though. His next punch didn’t hit my guard. I didn’t even have it raised, my arms felt like deadweights. I was exhausted, almost out on my feet. His fist found my jaw easily and I backpedaled and raised my hands, somehow finding the strength needed.

  I took a few of Dennehy’s punches on my guard, my arms bruising, aching, my bones rattling. It felt a world away from when you defended an attack when your opponent was wearing boxing gloves.

  I peeked my head from behind my guard, saw him drop his right shoulder, indicating he was winding up for a right cross. I didn’t allow him to throw the punch. I threw one of my own. An uppercut.

  My punch was clean; it hit him under the jaw before he was able to throw. I followed with a right hook. He took that clean in his face too. Then I went dirty again; I stepped on his leading foot and hit him with a spinning elbow.

  He was stumbling, his feet not going where he wanted them to, when he threw out a jab. I just tucked my chin into my chest and lowered my head. His hand hit the top, breaking his knuckles for sure.

  “That’s why they invented boxing gloves.” I smiled, but even that hurt me.

  As he was nursing his injured hand in his other I kicked him in his legs. He fell to the floor. I moved to him, swung my foot toward him. He punched my shin. It felt like I’d kicked a metal bar.

  As I limped away Dennehy stood. He had brass knuckles on the hand he’d just hit me with. He must have taken them from his pocket while he was on the floor. “They hurt, don’t they? I once fought a man three times my size. These are what gave me the victory, and what gave him a one way ticket to hell.” Dennehy licked the brass knuckles. “They still have the stench of his departed soul on them.”

  He walked toward me. Sophia kicked out as he moved by her but she missed. Dennehy stopped and turned to her. “You fucker.” He backhanded her with his other hand.

  I was at him before he even had time to turn to me. I grabbed hold of the hand that had the brass knuckles, kept it held to my body, and pounded my other hand into the back of his neck. My shot forced Dennehy to turn to face me and I continued to pound my fist into him, transforming his face into a dropped and splattered tomato.

  I was overcome with anger stronger than any I’d ever felt, more than when I’d punished the enemy sniper, more than when I’d killed the fighter who had us pinned down. I couldn’t stop myself from hitting him even when he dropped to his knees. I didn’t stop even when I let go of the hand that had the brass knuckles and they fell from him. I didn’t stop even when he was on his back in the center of the cage, blood pooling.

  It was Logan who stopped me. He dragged me from Dennehy and pushed me into the cage. “It’s over, kid. Stop, that’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.” Logan moved from me and I slid down the cage and landed on my ass. Logan got the keys from Colossus, removed the handcuffs that were keeping Sophia fixed to the cage, and then went to free Maria and Stevie.

  Sophia ran to me, dropped down, and hugged into my beaten body. She didn’t say anything, she just sobbed. I could hardly move. I just stroked her hair. I was hugged into from my other side. It was Stevie. Maria was standing over Dennehy. Logan was on his knees next to him, his fingers on his neck.

  Logan looked at Maria first and then to me. He just stared at me. He didn’t know if he should tell me what I already knew. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” I said. Logan just nodded. I lifted Sophia’s face to me. “I’m sorry, Sophia.”

  “Don’t be.” Her words were only just audible. Tears were streaming. “You saved me the job.” She hugged back into me as she sobbed again.

  Logan stood, put his arm around Maria and moved her to us. She sat down next to Stevie and placed her arm around him. “What now?” I asked Logan.

  He took a deep breath, looked at Dennehy’s body, and then at Colossus. “Ask Sophia, I guess this place is hers now.”

  Sophia lifted her head from me. She wiped some tears from her eyes. She looked at her dad’s body, but then quickly looked away. “Logan, take my... Take Dennehy’s body to Dead Man’s Lane, Colossus’s too. Let the vultures deal with them...”

  Logan nodded. “Sure.”

  She shut her eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath before she continued. “I’ve done the books for this place since I was thirteen. I know what money it’s made and where to find it.” Sophia turned to Maria. “I’m going to make sure you have more than enough money to help Stevie, cash to help you too, to get you a nice place, to get you back on your feet and help you to start afresh. I know it won’t bring your husband back, but hopefully it will help in some small way.”

  “Thank you so much,” Maria said as she forced a smile.

  Sophia wiped more tears from her face and turned to Logan. “This is yours,” she said as she gestured at the cage. “You can have The Circuit, Logan. I know you stayed with us after you stopped fighting because you hoped you could help the fighters somehow, look after them, and keep them safe. Now you can, if you want to, that is? You can close the damn place down for all I care... But if you do choose to keep it in business, just make sure you don’t become another Dennehy.”

  “I never could be like him... And thank you, Sophia.”

  “And you...” Sophia turned to me, smiled, the glow returning to her jade-greens. “You give me my happy ever after.”

  “Deal... As long as you pay me for the fight I just had.” I smiled.

  We kissed.

  IX

  I kicked the door open and carried Sophia into the room, closing the door behind me with my foot. I walked her to the bed and placed her down next to it. She dropped her flowers to the floor and smiled at me. The silk wedding dress looked perfect clinging to her beautiful body, showing off her trim curves and ample breasts.

  My jaw had dropped when I saw her walk down the aisle.
I held my breath the whole of her journey, the biggest smile on my face that I’d ever had. Each of Sophia’s eyes had a halo of candle light flickering in the beautiful hue. It was just like Logan had told me it would be like, a moment of perfection.

  Maria was standing next to me, my best man, my best woman, wiping tears from her face as she smiled. Stevie was playing with Sally, both of them throwing flowers for Sophia to walk over. Logan had linked arms with Sophia, was smiling at his own wife, Camilla, and his son, as he walked my heavenly girl down the aisle.

  “Are you okay?” Sophia asked as she placed her hand on my chest, the wedding ring glistening.

  “I’m just fine. And you, my beautiful wife, are perfect.”

  “What’s the first order you’d like to give your wife, soldier?”

  “Fuck me, ma’am.”

  I leaned forward and my lips met Sophia’s. They were moist, warm and yielding. They parted slightly and I sucked on her upper lip, only relenting when her young and agile tongue pushed against me, seeking entry. I opened my mouth and she penetrated me, coiling her tongue around my own. Sophia moaned into my mouth, I could feel the vibration of her lips as the sound of pleasure left her.

  I placed my hands on her hips and enjoyed how powerful it felt to have such a small frame in my grasp again. Her nubile body pressed against me and her heavy tits pushed against my chest. It was a great contrast, my hard body and her soft young tits colliding in a loving embrace of lust and love for each other.

  Sophia started to undress me. My arms were back around her quickly. I couldn’t bear to not be touching her. I pressed my lips to hers again and we continued to consume each other’s tastes. She caressed my cheek with one hand while the other roamed across my broad back. My muscles bunched and shook out of sheer excitement as her little fingers fucked my flesh with their movement.

  I moved my hands to the small of her back, dipped one hand to her firm ass and slapped it lightly, before I moved my other up her back, to the zipper that was keeping the figure-hugging silk dress on her body.