Ch. 3

Big Swords, Big Fight, Big Death

We had arrived at section D, and walked through the enormous chain-link fence that separates the fight block from the rest of The Halls. There was no sparring or training going on, and already a crowd had gathered to watch the fight.

"Somebody from the bar must’ve went ahead and told everyone about the fight," Coel said.

"Thank you, oh great stater of the obvious," I responded.

Purple Roland walked into the center of the arena and held his hands out to quiet the crowd before he spoke. "This match will go by Fight of Glory rules. Hand to hand combat weapons, such as swords and pole-arms, are allowed. Guns are not. You win the fight if you knock your opponent out, if your opponent submits, or if your opponent’s life ends. This match will be one-on-one, ‘Big’ Marcus Jones versus Locke Tenderswill."

"One-on-one! What the hell does he mean one-on-one? This guy could kill me!" I shouted at Coel.

"I’m sorry dude. If he says it’s one-on-one there’s not much we can do."

"What do you mean ‘not much we can do?’ It started as a BAR FIGHT! There’s no rules in a bar fight."

"Gentlemen, please come to the center of the fighting area." Marcus and I both walked to where Roland was standing. "I expect a good showing guys. Don’t start until I yell ‘fight’." As he walked past me to the crowd he stopped and whispered to me, "for your sake you’d better win, or he’ll kill you."

"That’s just great, know I know he’ll kill me," I muttered under my breathe.

We stared at each other from across the small circle in the center of the ring. What I showed him was that I was cool and confident. What I felt like, though, was nowhere close.

"You’re a though guy in a bar with your buddy," Marcus said to me across the ring, "but now how tough are you when you have to fight me one-on-one?"

"Still tough enough to kick your ass, big man," I replied, not at all feeling it. He seemed to only get bigger as we waited for the signal from Roland. I got into a fighting stance, ready to begin my last, futile effort, and he was in his own sloppy form.

Then we heard one word bellowed from under the purple hood, "Fight!"

He immediately swung his big right fist at me, which I easily ducked under, grabbed, and used to flip him over. There were a few cheers from the crowd of fighters, one of them Coel’s. Jones quickly got back up. He looked at me and smiled, "nice one, section C, but now you’ve pissed me off. You’ll die here today!"

He swung his whole right arm at m, trying to clothesline me. I stepped under his arm, but he used its momentum to bring his left foot to kick. I leaned back, went under the kick, and back-flipped to my feet. He kept his momentum going to throw his right fist at me again, which I again grabbed and used his momentum to flip him over me. He landed with a thud, to the sound of a few more cheers, and was slower to get up.

"Okay, I’ve had enough of you punk," he growled at me.

"You’re giving up?" I asked in reply.

"You could be so lucky," he said, snapping his fingers.

"Here ya go, Big," a couple of voices yelled from the crowed. Then I saw a pair of gigantic broadswords, each almost as big as me, fly out of the crowd. Jones caught them easily, each in one hand.

"My blades will taste your blood," he shouted as he began to swing the blades violently at me. I did all I could to dodge the attacks. I was running out of steam, and his blades were getting uncomfortably close. We were closing in on the far side crowd, which was dividing to make room for Marcus’s wrath.

Then I heard Coel’s voice from the crowd yell "catch!" and a pole came at me. I immediately began using it to block Marcus’s attacks. What Coel had thrown me was a piece of the fence. I knocked one of the swords out of his hands by hitting his hand. It slid to the feet of Purple Roland who then picked it up and stabbed it into the ground as if daring Marcus’s men to try and get it back.

The big man then took his remaining sword in both hands and we continued to battle. I was able to push him back to the center before my pole finally gave. His sword cut straight through it and I let go as the blade came towards me. I fell backwards to my hands, and kicked the sword high into the air. While he stood, shocked at loosing both blades, I was able to grab his arm and wrench it behind his back.

"Give up, big man, it’s over," I told him over his shoulder.

"Never," he replied. I then caught a glimpse of something shiny above us.

"Shit!" I yelled as I let go and took a couple steps back. "Marcus, move!"

He turned and looked at me. "What, tired of fi…" He was completely cut off as his own sword slammed into his head from above. It gouged into his head like a knife into a watermelon, spilling his brains and his blood everywhere. His huge body fell to its knees, then crashed forward. The fighting block was forever stained with his blood.

"You stupid bastard, you should’ve moved. You didn’t need to die here today…"