1
Stephanus
I jump to my feet as I hear the loud crack. Rage’s head snaps back as his opponent’s fist makes contact with his face.
“What the fuck!” Jarrod says; he’s also on his feet. The crowd is going wild around us.
We watch Rage stagger back a few steps before regaining his footing. Blood is streaming down his face, droplets spattering onto the floor.
“I think it’s broken,” I say. My words are laced with shock.
“Has to be,” Jarrod sounds just as confused. He scratches his head.
“Surely, the ref will stop the fight?” I ask as Manny turns his head to look at us. His eyes are wide and filled with…panic. He quickly dials down his emotions, looking more along the lines of confusion. Rage’s trainer also can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Not necessarily.” We watch Rage advance on his opponent. If it weren’t for the blood, you would never say he had just been hit that hard. His eyes are clear and filled with determination.
“It was a lucky blow,” I mumble. I’ve never seen anyone land a full-on strike before. Not square in the face. Even when Rage isn’t using his powers, he’s a formidable opponent. Then again, John West has never been beaten either. This is nowhere near the big time, but it is his first professional fight. One way or the other, this shouldn’t be happening! Rage is too good. Rage is… Rage is Rage!
His opponent moves in and is on Rage in a second. He moves quickly. Too quickly? What the—?
Jarrod throws out another cuss. “Are you seeing this?” he asks me.
We watch Rage deflect another blow…only just. His opponent’s knee comes up, catching him in the solar plexus. Rage bellows, sounding both angry and pained. Maybe a little stunned. Something is wrong with this picture. Rage is losing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shake my head. “What the hell is going on?”
Rage’s face has turned red. He looks taller than he did before. His muscles are bulging.
“This is bad,” my brother mutters. “That West fucker can’t be human,” he adds, talking under his breath.
“I doubt it. No human can move that fast.” Rage doesn’t exactly have the longest fuse. If he were to let loose, carnage would follow. John West – if that is even his name – would be torn limb from limb…literally. When Rage goes into berserker mode, people die. Blood flows. He sees red. That can’t be allowed to happen! If this fight goes on, it will happen. It’s a guarantee. Humans could end up being massacred. What a fucking mess!
His eyes have locked onto his opponent. Rage snarls as he launches himself at John West, getting in two healthy blows. One to the side of the head and the other to the jaw. His opponent’s eyes widen in shock, and it’s his turn to stagger backward. He cups his cheek with his gloved hand. That blow should have felled him, and yet he’s standing.
“Definitely not human,” I whisper to Jarrod.
“Not a fuck!” He shakes his head.
I see West visibly bristle; he also seems to grow larger. The two men stalk around each other, sizing each other up.
“This is headed for disaster,” Jarrod says, already walking towards Manny, who is standing outside the cage on Rage’s side. There is a full minute left before the end of the second round. A lot can happen in sixty seconds.
I follow Jarrod. “We have to stop the fight,” my brother says as he reaches Manny.
Rage’s opponent growls low, and the audience goes nuts. They’re loving it. Little do they know.
“What do you mean?” Manny asks. “Rage is doing great.”
Manny has no idea what we are. Who Rage really is, namely the son of the god of war. “Throw in the towel,” I say. “Stop this!”
Rage snarls, his muscles rope and thicken as he throws himself at John West. Both men come to blows. Both of their faces are bloody. They’re snarling like animals. The crowd loves it. The ref shouts a word of warning, but neither fighter takes any note.
I look over to the other side of the cage. West’s manager is a big, mean-looking son of a bitch. His jaw is clenched. He doesn’t look happy. This is the first time this West asshole might lose a fight. It’s also his first high profile fight. Like Rage, his fighter has a reputation. One that could very easily be destroyed at this stage of his career. There is a crowd here tonight and the winnings are substantial. It’s not why Rage is here, but that’s a conversation for another day.
Rage gets in a good hit, and West goes flying…as in, through the air.
“Did you see that?” Manny shouts, his voice animated. “I don’t know how he does it; it’s almost superhuman.”
It is super-fucking-human!
“Stop the fight,” I insist.
John West is up on his feet in half a second. Too quickly. He looks dazed but shakes it off as Rage comes at him again.
I see movement in West’s corner; a woman is with the fighter’s trainer. She is speaking animatedly but under her breath. From the way she is gesturing with her hands, the conversation looks heated. The trainer is shaking his head. He also looks like he could be a fighter himself. He’s big and built. I can’t hear what they are saying over the noise of the crowd. At this angle, I can’t read their lips either. The woman is tiny. Her hair is black and curly. It falls in a wild tumble down her back. Her skin is the color of mocha. Wow! She’s beautiful. Her eyes are big…I can’t quite see what color they are. I think they are light, but…
Rage crashes onto the floor, right in front of us. He’s sweating profusely. I can see dark bruises already forming on his ribs. His lip is busted. One of his eyes is starting to swell. He has hate written all over his face. His almost black eyes are much lighter than normal. They’re starting to glow. This isn’t good at all. Rage jumps up, muscles bunching, and hands clenched into tight fists. I grab the towel, about to throw it into the cage, when the bell rings, signaling the end of the round. I notice that West doesn’t look much better. Both fighters are bruised and bleeding.
Rage growls. I think he is going to attack West despite the bell ringing when a woman in a tiny bikini walks into the cage. She’s holding a sign that reads, ‘Round 3’. Rage is taking deep breaths, his eyes on West.
Manny is in the cage. He tells Rage to take a seat. Thankfully he listens and lowers himself to a stool. Manny starts tending to his wounds as soon as he’s sitting.
Jarrod and I clutch the side of the cage behind Rage’s stool. “What the fuck!” my brother says through the bars.
Rage spits his mouthguard into his hand, and Manny shoves a straw into his mouth. Rage drinks and then pushes the bottle away. Manny continues working on Rage’s cut lip and bleeding nose.
“We have a problem here,” I say, directing my words at Rage.
“No kidding,” he grinds out as Manny wipes a towel over his forehead. He carefully pushes his trainer away. “Give me a few seconds.” He turns to us, his face almost pressed against the bars. “West isn’t human,” he whispers. “I’m trying not to use my powers, but—”
There is a commotion on the other side of the cage. West is on his feet. He looks pissed. “Don’t you fucking dare!” he shouts. I think he’s aiming his animosity at the tiny woman with the curly hair. “Raven…don’t you—”