Trader Blows

“BRICK HOUSE! BRICK HOUSE!”

The crowd spewed my nickname into the air, like a chunk of vomit. Yeah, the name was fitting, but I don't revell in what I do for a living. The underground echoed. Sweat, spit, and blood kite across the room. The ref locks me into the grimy, blood-stained chained fence. I tighten the bandages on my brittle hands as I glare at the fucking scrawny kid across from me. I walk towards him as we touch fists.

"So you're the Brick," the kid says with a smirk, "I'm gonna kick your teeth In old man."

The boy smiles at me with a missing a tooth grin. I put my hands up and continue to stare at him.

"Fight!"

The boy quickly swings with his left hook and I eat the punch with my guard. I step back. He raises his leg and tries to stomp in my right kneecap, but I side step the attack.

"What's wrong old man, you only dodging shit tonight?!"

He runs towards me jabbing with his left and right, rapidly. I push the hits away with ease. The kid gets close enough and goes for a headbutt, but I grab a hand full of hair and push his head to the ground with my other arm.

"Walk away, kid. I don't want to hurt you."

The crowd roars my name like a bloodly arena chant. The kid sits in a puddle of dried up blood, steaming at my request.

"Don't show me mercy you, bastard!"

He gets up swinging for my left jaw, but I grab his hand and pull him from the ground, slamming his arm behind his back as he hits the bloody fence.

"This is your last chance, kid. Just know that I'll be getting my money regardless."

The kid headbutts me in the mouth and kicks me in the chest. I fall back and hold my chest.

"Well, don't say I didn't try to help ya."

The kid turns around and runs toward me. He slides and tries to buckle my legs from below, but I stop him with a stomp in the stomach. I jump on him and throw a barrage of elbows and jabs to his face. His face swelled up like a festering wound. His eyes shooting blood and his teeth fly everywhere. I grab him by the throat and pick him up from the ground. Tears of blood roll down his plump cheeks. He attempts to talk, but his neck is too swollen, so he taps his hand on my wrist in a ditch effort to surrender. The pussy. They all talk a high game, but fall victim to me every time.

"That's it Brick! He gives up, let him go."

I drop the kid and pop my knuckles. I bend down and look at him in his crossed eyes.

"Let this be a lesson, kid. This ain't the life you want. If you come back here I'll rip your spine out your ass, got it?"

He shakes his head in fear as I walk out the cage. The organizer hands me my cash and I count it thoroughly before pocketing it in my black hoodie.

"Great job out there Brick, you really fucked that kid up."

I grab him by the collar.

"Dont ever throw another brat in that ring again. I ain't killing nobody's runaway."

He throw his hands up.

"Alright, alright. I'll talk to em so it won't happen again."

I let go of him and head to the restroom. This ain't no 5 star hotel, so the room is smeared with shit, piss, and gang graffiti. I pull off my hoodie and walk over to the sink to rinse my hands with brownish water. I couldn't tell if I was washing them or dirting them more.

Blood swam down the dirty gutters. I pull out the teeth from my hands and pop my wrists back into place. I put on my hoodie and head outside.

The streets are loud and annoying. I preferred the cage because at least I got to punch out the noise in front of me. I couldn't do that here. They were just noises I couldn't fucking control. This place was just as shitty as the underground. Suddenly I hear a noise I don't like to hear: a woman screaming.

"Leave me alone! Someone help!"

I run in the direction of the noise. I see a woman getting pushed around by a couple of punks.

"Give up your money, bitch."

"Fuck the money bro, I bet she has something even better," one says as if his eyes have x-ray vision.

"Please don't," the woman cries out as her back scratches at the wall behind her.

"Hey!" The two look my way.

"What the hell you want, man? Mind your fucking business."

"The lady told you dipshits to leave her alone, why are y'all still here?"

They turn around, eyeing me down.

"Let's handle this shit quick," one of them says.

One of the kids runs my way swinging a wooden bat, but I side step to his left and knee thrust the bat. It pops him in the nose and while he holds it, I throat punch him. He bites the ground.

"Mikey! That's it old man, you're gonna regret that."

He pulls out a glock and aims it my way. I pick up his friend and pull the knife hanging from his pocket. I put it up to his throat.

"You put one in me and I smear the streets with Mikey, kid!"

The kid growls and puts his gun in his pocket.

"You bastard, let him go!"

"Leave the lady alone and you won't be putting his insides back where they go."

The kid runs over and pulls his friend from my grip and they run past me.

"You betta watch your back, you old motherfucker!"

She hesitantly walks out of the shadows from the wall and comes closer.

"Oh my God, thank you so much sir."

"Just call me Brock."

I walk past her.

"Wait!" I turn around.

"You're not gonna ask me for my name?" I smile. I guess this place ain't that shitty after all.