He got a chuckle out of me on that one. His sources were right on as usual. Alexi had eyes on everything, even us supposedly clandestine people. “Tommy is doing his level best to get me ready to fight Subotic, including using me as shark bait. The guys have a great time taking the boat out while Tommy tortures me.”
“As well schooled as I am concerning your training, conditioning, and preparation, I’m afraid I will be refraining from making a wager on your fight tomorrow night, my friend. I do however wish you all the luck in the world.”
I finished my Bud and Beam. “I wouldn’t turn down a little luck.”
“True, but that is a bloody poor sport for relying on luck, John.”
“Amen to that.”
* * *
My Oakland PD friends Enrique Rodriguez and Earl Taylor worked the door security for the fight. They waved me over as the line of people paying top dollar for this throw-down began doing catcalls and shouting out mean, hurtful stuff about my chances in tonight’s bang-a-rama. The folks who like me can’t afford the entry fee on a night like this. This bunch had lost money on me in the past, and had a few favorites lose to me in violent fashion. I waved at them while walking with my entourage of Tommy, Devon, Jesse, and Jafar. Lucas, Casey, Clint and Lynn would be watching the fight too, but from the audience. It never hurts having some of the most dangerous people in the world around if things got a little out of hand.
I spotted tonight’s masters of ceremony, Jim Bonasera and Ray Alexander. They both had their cordial smiles pasted in place to welcome me. Ray stays back because he knows Tommy hates his guts, and I’m not real fond of him either. That he’s lost a small fortune betting against me always brings a smile to my face. Jim Bonasera at least had always given us an even break in the past. They used to run everything until a slight miscalculation led to them being owned by Alexi Fiialkov, along with their enterprise. I at least knew they fronted for Fiialkov’s interests rather than the Mideast contingent.
“Good to see you, John,” Bonasera said. “We have locker rooms and everything since the last time you fought here. It was one of the keys to continuing with foreign broadcasts of the fight from our location. I’ll guide you back.”
I looked around in amazement. “Our own locker rooms? Well… okay Jim… lead on. Hey Ray, aren’t you going to give me your usual blessing?”
Alexander’s face twisted into a mask of discontent. Then he grinned. “Sure. You’re goin’ down tonight, pug!”
“Thanks, Ray. I hope you bet lots of money on The Destroyer. I’ll feel better if I lose that way, knowing you recouped a small portion of the fortune you’ve lost betting against me.”
My crew laughed, except for Tommy. My partner smiled at Alexander’s smirking mug. “One day I’ll see you out on the street when no one else is around, snake. If you see me first, run.”
Ray was going to fire off some cheap thug remark, but his better sense kicked in. “No need for any remarks like that, Tommy.”
“Remember what I said, Ray.”
I put an arm around Tommy. “C’mon partner, I want to see my new locker room.”
The old warehouse had gone through another upgrade since I had fought here last - fresh paint, more plush seating outside the cage, increased lighting. They even had a huge monitor on one wall showing UFC fight highlights. Yep, my old dank arena was gone - no more rattling sheet metal walls, or the ever present odor of blood, urine and desperation. Things change. No use getting maudlin about the place I could possibly get my brains beat out in. Besides, I had a locker room.
Bonasera led us through the contingent of well-heeled fight fans. Actual waitresses were serving cocktails from a brand new sports bar area near the monitor. It was hard to dislike what the old arena had become. I glanced back at Tommy. We grinned at each other. We’d come a long way, but only in terms of furnishings. My friends Devon Constantine and Jesse Brown were looking around wonderingly in the same manner as me and Tommy. They had thrown hands in here too when the place wasn’t much more than a big shed with the only additive a filthy blood stained mat for the ground and pounders. No matter the flavor of the night, it was good to be home, my ass on the line, and friends at my back.
I explored the new locker room like a kid on his first trip into a comic book store. The guys shadowed my movements because they were just as impressed. “This is so nice. I want to make sure I don’t mess it up by getting blood on the floor. Maybe you guys should plastic wrap me on the way to the shower.”
Tommy grabbed me, with the other guys laughing at my admonishment. “Listen, Dark Lord! You’re going to win this fuckin’ fight! If you lose and I have to look at that asshole Ray Alexander’s face gloating, I’m going to kill him on the spot. Do your part to keep me out of prison.”
I grinned. “There’s no use in sugarcoating this for you, T. We knew the time might come when I’d get carried off the mat or out of the cage. We have a plan. I’m not afraid. I go out there and trade pain with the Destroyer, just like I did with Dev and Jess here. That’s how it’s done. We have Jack Korlos for the referee. Asking for much more than that would be upsetting the cosmic balance, brother. Tell you what, if I lose, you can drag me along off the fantail of The Lora for a while. That’ll put a smile on your face.”
Tommy hugged me. “I love you, you pathetic white bread son-of-a-bitch!”
I hugged him back. What the hell. We might as well make this into a soap opera. It ain’t going to matter anyway. I’ll either make our plan work or The Destroyer was going to have a very good night. “I love you too, brother. How about you helping me with my gloves, and we’ll take up this ‘Days of our Lives’ episode after the fight.”
Tommy pushed me away as our buddies laughed. “Let’s do this! It’s going to get ugly, but we ride the Dark Lord wave right into the rocks guys. No mercy – we’ll bust him up in our corner if he doesn’t stick to the plan. Kid, you got your Taser, right?”
Jafar smiled. “Yeah, T. Let’s light him up in between rounds if he slacks off.”
Tommy shoved my gloves on in place, checking my hands and movement. “He’s ready. Let’s warm the prick up.”
Okay, I didn’t expect that, but there I was before the fight of my life, blocking strikes from all sides. A good time was had by all… except me.
Jack Korlos ducked into our side of the newly added locker room. “Hey, kid, it’s time for your punishment. I hope you’ve been saying your prayers every night.”
“Yep. Every night, Jack. Can I say how great it is to have you refereeing the fight?”
He pointed at me. “You don’t know the half of it. Those assholes want to make me a rich man if I help them out on the calls. Yeah… that’ll happen.”
“I’d make you rich just to call it straight up, but I wouldn’t insult you like that.”
Jack rubbed his chin. “I don’t know kid, maybe getting paid extra for doing my job wouldn’t hurt my moral code much.”
We all howled at that one. I pointed back at him. “You get your bonus even if they cart me back here on a stretcher.”
“See you on the other side, kid.” Jack walked away.
“What do you think he meant by that, John?” Jess was staring at Jack’s exit.
“Ain’t nothin’ Jack can do now. It’s nothin’ personal, Jess. It’s just business.”
Chapter Eighteen: Just Business
When given all the parameters of this match up, I admit I was juiced. I marched out with my crew toward the cage, sucking in the boos, waving at the crowd with real passion, and enjoying a moment that either worked well, or was a precursor to death or maiming. I embraced it all, because Subotic wasn’t going to make it out of this faceoff without pain. He’d proven he could take it. I’d proven I could too. Now we get to see the other side of pain together.
They played the Marine’s Hymn for me, which I gotta’ say always stirs my soul. I had on plain black trunks and my black ring robe with ‘Hard Case’ on the back. We had been sanctioned as the challen
gers even though this was our home turf… of course. We entered the cage area first. Man, I loved this shit. Everything on the line, and hell on the other side for the loser. Then we had a little drama. One of the crowd had one of those voices that suck the oxygen out of the room. He did do that for a moment.
“Hey Pussy! Marines suck dick!”
Uh oh. Sometimes, there’s just nothing you can do but watch. Lucas pounded over to the guy’s seat in what seemed like seconds. Lucas picked that boy straight up in the air and body slammed him. There was a slight disturbance as his buddies reached for Lucas only to find Casey, Clint and Lynn. The small melee ended quickly. Lucas picked the guy up off the deck and explained the facts of life to him concerning disrespecting the Marine Corps. I thought the guy took it well, considering his feet never touched the ground during the lecture. Surprisingly, the crowd got the message that tonight was not the time to shoot your mouth off before the action. I pounded my fists together pointing at Lucas who smiled and waved. No one disrespects the Marines in front of us… no one. Then The Destroyer made his entrance, decked out all in midnight blue.
The original theme from ‘The Exorcist’ built up gradually to a crescendo as The Destroyer stalked with his handlers toward the cage. I caught a glimpse of his logo ‘The Destroyer’ in red dripping letters. It was hell of impressive. That creepy music even gives me the chills. I’m enjoying the hell out of it until killjoy Tommy bops me in the back of the head.
“Would you try… just once… not to dance at your opponent’s music, you idiot!”
I smiled at Tommy. “Holy crap, T, I thought you loved me. What the hell?”
My guys started busting up, forgetting where we were or what we were doing. Subotic’s contingent, having entered the cage, looked at us as if we were nuts. Demetrius Subotic, The Destroyer, looked every bit as stunningly huge as the time I’d met him over at The Warehouse. I could tell his new handlers had coached him into a new glowering and sullen cage presence. He stared across the mat at me, looking like he wanted to rip my head off. Frankly, that is what he’s supposed to do, so I smiled and waved at him, receiving another bop on the head from Tommy.
“Hey… what the hell was that for?”
“Take a lesson from Bigfoot over there and put your game-face on, meat!”
I immediately crossed my eyes, and let my jaw hang open while tilting my head. “How’s this?”
Even Tommy couldn’t hold out on my new game-face. I saw Subotic and his crew jawing back and forth heatedly as my bunch laughed their asses off. They probably thought I was making fun of them, but who cares. It wasn’t like Subotic was going to pound me with less enthusiasm if I acted like less of a clown. The crowd of course booed at our enjoyment of the moment. I waved to the crowd as Jack Korlos entered the cage. The arena quieted. Jack used the new overhead audio gizmo to announce each one of us. I pointed out we were being projected onto the monitor over the bar. I jumped up and down as Jack announced me, doing a Carl Weathers impersonation from Rocky, pointing at Subotic with pumping arm in a ‘I want you’ fashion. The crowd rocked the house with boos. Tommy and my guys stared at me in stunned surprise.
A guy can’t even have a little fun in the cage anymore. “What?”
Dev grinned. “Your Apollo Creed imitation sucks.”
“I sure hope that guy doesn’t crush your head like a grape, Apollo,” Jess added.
Jafar waved me off. “You are dead to me.”
Tommy patted my shoulder. “Jack wants you, Apollo. Best get your ass out there before the judges rule it a forfeit.”
Jack was indeed waving us together. Subotic was nearly half a head taller than me, and I didn’t want to think about how much he outweighed me by. He and I exchanged loving glances while Jack recited the rules. We acknowledged our understanding. We did a quick touch of the glove, and Jack waved us back. The strangest feeling washed over me as I glanced around at the sports bar edition thinking, man, a nice cold one and a double Beam would sure go down nice right now. My reverie earned a third head slap.
“Daydream on your own time, Apollo!” Tommy followed our crew out of the cage.
“Damn, Tommy, you’ve already hit me more than I planned on letting Demetrius hit me.” I waited for Jack to do our ready warning, while listening to the crowd roar building to a deafening audio force. He waved us together with a quick ‘get it on’.
Demi surprised the hell out of me by plodding toward me, stopping, and trying to kick me right in the nuts. It’s possible even his handlers were uninformed as to how many back alley brawls I’d been in. My new ocean honed reflexes came into play early. See, numerous fighters, brawlers, and bond skips had tried kicking me in the nuts. I have a sweet countermove for that particular ploy. I roll dive to the side on my back, and kick up with my right leg, catching the kicker’s offending limb right behind the kneecap. I practice it constantly, because it also works with most front kicks. It would have paralyzed another fighter.
Demi had never been on the mat before. He headed there now, flat on his back. I rolled up over his face with the lower half of my body, launching a full power left hook under his rib cage. I heard the crack, just before Demi clocked me with a right from his back that sent me to la-la land for a moment while I rolled with the punch. I shook the cobwebs in the dead silence of the arena, seeing Demi scramble roll to his feet. I saw the pain in his face when he tried putting weight on the kicked knee leg. After a taste of that damn right of his, I decided to use caution. I knew two things now: he would have trouble firing out with his left because of the rib crack, and the only thing that right leg of his would be good for was questionable support.
Tommy and the boys realized the facts too as I came up on my feet. They were cheering like hell amidst a very quiet crowd. Demi’s corner crew foamed at the mouth, insulting Jack for allowing illegal blows and kicks. Jack smiled, but kept his head in the game. He knew who had tried an illegal kick. Demi looked more confused than hurt, but I had news for him: it was going to get even more confusing for him. I circled to his right, inviting his left strike while peppering him with right jabs. My jabs with either hand are like trip hammers. If you don’t block them, you won’t have a face left by the third round. The Destroyer concentrated for the moment on moving in order to loosen his right leg stiffness while keeping his hands up.
When I had his attention on my right jab, I smashed a kick into his good left leg just under the knee. He went down, because his right leg wasn’t ready for any action or full support yet. I leaped in smashing rights and lefts into his head. The scouting report was right. He could take a punch. Well, okay then, time for a little variation. I revved back and roundhouse kicked him above his ear as he pushed off the mat. He blinked and dropped down again to his knees. My left leg sidekick smashed into his chest, driving him again flat on his back. I went into full mount with hammer blows to his head with both fists. Incredibly, the Destroyer turned in the midst of my barrage, continuing upwards while bucking me off. Man, this boy could take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. I spent the rest of the round repeatedly attacking his good left leg until Demi had no choice but to start lifting it every time he saw me move as if I were going to strike it.
The round ended with me backing toward my corner while watching Demi. I had no plans to be an overconfident idiot. I could hear a woman’s shrill excited scream directing me to kill him. I grinned. Although I didn’t look around, I knew it had to be Lynn. On my stool, the guys worked me over with ice packs and towels, but we all knew the Destroyer had made a big mistake.
“Never would have figured he’d do that,” Tommy stated. “He must think you’re some boot camp newbie never seen the street before, John. That was damn disrespectful.”
“That right he hit me with was bad, T. I can sure understand the Big O going down under that one.”
“You hit him with blows that would have sent any other human into the promised land,” Dev said. “I’m glad you backed off and went for the kicks.”
�
�John, you gonna break your damn hands hittin’ that clown in the head,” Jess added. “He can’t move much now. Best turn his face to mulch with them jabs from hell of yours.”
“And do like you said. Don’t let him connect with that right. You cracked his rib, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, T. He won’t be able to hit me with a full force left, but God only knows how potent his half force left is. Use the Taser on me if I’m stupid enough to trade shots with him.”
“I will too.” Jafar chuckled as he gave me another sip of water.
“Oh shit! Be on guard. That corner guy on the Destroyer’s left just shot him up with something in the leg you smashed and his arm while the judges called Jack over. He didn’t see it.”
I stood up. “Don’t worry about it, T. Unless they have a formula to instantly heal a rib fracture and damaged knee ligaments, Demi will still be plodding. Besides, there’s no rules against shootin’ up in here. If any of the cameras caught The Destroyer doing needle triage, it could hurt his chances of ever fighting in the UFC. I doubt he’s thinking about that now.”
“Don’t get careless, Dark Lord.”
“At some point I may have to, T. Remember, I can’t win a decision here.”
“Better to still be alive, brother,” Dev called out as I advanced into ready position.
Yep, it looked like Demi got an upgrade. His vitamin shots couldn’t make his right leg work any better. He was favoring it as he got off his stool. The skin looked a little stretched, so it was swelling. If I couldn’t knock him out, I may have to break something on him. Jack probably had orders not to stop the fight under any circumstances other than imminent death. He did the ready, set, and go. Demi and I went to work.
The Destroyer had conceived a thoughtful plan. He knew his power, his reach advantage, and the fact he could probably take my best punch, so he moved forward swinging short power punches into my arms, shoulders, and hands I covered my head with. Demi hit my left hand block so hard I almost knocked myself out as it bounced off the side of my head. I wasn’t standing there like a big stationary punching bag either. I bobbed, weaved, smashed blows into his face and rib area, and generally let him chase me around. Then he threw a right pile-driver, I barely rerouted by ducking into the danger zone, while ripping a right hook right on the button of his sore rib. All the needle medicine in the world couldn’t keep him from pulling back. That’s when I smacked him behind his good left knee with a kick I’ve broken two-by-fours with. I didn’t break anything on Demi, but the kick definitely broke off his attack.
Hard Case: Boxed Set Books 1,2 & 3 (John Harding Books) Page 84
