The fist hit Cronus’ face before he could even think to react.
When his therapist had told Cronus he needed to learn how to get his feelings out constructively, he didn’t think this was what she meant. But hell, this definitely helped.
The crowd around the pavement ring was baying for blood as he went down with a solid thud and an ‘oof’. That stung. The left side of his jaw radiated pain and he rubbed it as he got up again. His opponent, a person much taller and much more threatening than him who went only by Dualscar in the ring, smirked at him lightly.
“Just stay down, boy. Give up.”
“Not bloody likely.” Cronus rolled his shoulders, subtly adjusting the ace bandages under his bloodied white tanktop before squaring off again. His wrapped hands rolled into fists and he raised his arms in a boxer’s guarding stance.
Dualscar laughed and lunged again, but this time he was ready. He ducked and weaved, aiming a sharp jab at the taller man’s ribs. He was blocked by the hardest slap he’d ever felt in his life. It knocked him to the ground again and he gave a grunt as he rolled across the cement.
Along the sidelines Cronus could see his best friend looking at him nervously, hands clenched into fists at his stomach in worry. Horuss gave him a thumbs down; pull out now, you can’t keep going like this. Four matches is enough, don’t ruin it.
“You’re outta your league, boy,” Dualscar taunted. “Come on, now, you mighta beat the other whelps here but you’re not gettin’ by me.”
Cronus spat onto the concrete and there was blood in his saliva. He wiped his mouth and looked up at the gloating fighter. It was then that he noticed a wide-open weak spot and his expression turned from sullen and angry to a wild, almost sharklike grin. Hunger burned in his eyes.
A shiver went down Horuss’ spine as he saw that feral look in Cronus’ eyes. Cronus stood up again and cracked his neck. While Dualscar wasn’t looking he pounced, landing on the other’s back and driving his heels straight down against the other’s lower spine. The larger man let out a yelp and went down like a stone. In any legal ring, that would definitely disqualify him.
But this wasn’t a legal ring. Anything went here except weapons and the short Ampora was going to take advantage of that.
“Get offa me!” Dualscar growled, his face firmly mashed into the cement. Cronus’ grin only widened. He knelt down, pinning Dualscar. Both of them knew it; knockout was the only way to win. He pulled Dualscar’s head up roughly by the hair, a bloodthirsty look in his eyes.
“Nah.” He said, clicking his tongue and giving the older man a wink before slamming his head down into the concrete with a sickening crunch.
“Was that really necessary?”
Horuss was still grumbling as he drove not one, but two bruised and bloody bodies back to their house. Cronus Ampora Sr. had one hell of a migraine and would likely have to stay up all night to stave off a coma from his son’s final move, but he was glowing with pride. Cronus Junior looked no better, the left side of his face swollen under his ice pack and his nose once again broken from a previous fight.
“Oh, totally!” He said, giving a faint wheeze in an attempt to laugh. “About time I got a win over my old man. What do you think, huh, Pops?”
“I don’t say I’ll be doin’ much thinkin’ about anything til this concussion goes away.” He said, but there was a grin on his face nonetheless. “But good job. Now pay up.”
Cronus matched his father’s grin with one of his own. He reached down between his feet in the car, grabbing his backpack. Inside was a thick envelope with a sizable wad of cash; Cronus’ winnings for the night. He split it three ways; giving one stack to his father, and one to Horuss.
“You two are going to kill yourselves one day.” Horuss grouched as he nonetheless pocketed the money.
