He panted and tried to grin gamely. "This is good practice," he said between gasps, "for Grendel's ass-whuppin' contest." I shuffled back two quick steps and stood up.
"What? What ass-whuppin' contest?"
Chamberlain took a deeper breath, bracing against what looked to be a pretty fuckin' sharp pain, but looked happy for the break. "Grendel's got the guy that has the Anarch Belt willing to put it all on the line, and he's throwing a rave to mark the occasion. Music, blood, general mayhem. Lotsa good stuff. I'm going."
I thought a minute. I thought he was wrong. "Where? When?"
"Sleepy Hollow. Cool, yeah? 'Headless'. Heh." His face distorted with the pain the chuckle brought. "August. The usual bros know."
I slipped the bottle into my left hand and slid forward, low and fast, throwing my left high to bring his eyes up to where I wanted them. Both his arms came up to protect his throat, prudently I thought, and I jammed my right fist into his midsection, pulled back and grabbed his groin -- damn! missed his balls -- and lifted up and to the right, sending his head twisting downward. I encouraged this trend and pushed hard, giving him a lovely bash to the nuts to add to the concussion.
"I ... I thought we weren't fuckin' each other up ... too bad ...."
"Sorry," I told him over my shoulder,"but it's almost dawn and I just went into training. Time to add a belt to my wardrobe."