“You ready?” he breathed against her lips, her body close enough to meld the two of them together.
She nodded, but didn’t say a thing. Her eyes were wide and her lips pinched, afraid but trying to be brave for him.
He kissed her on the lips then pulled away. Retrieving his weapons, he stood back from the door and waited for it to open.
Topaz’s shoulders straightened as she held a chair leg in her hand on the other side of the door.
The both of them finally fighting together and not with each other.
Skin rose along his neck and he prayed babysitting duties hadn’t been passed off to a new set of assholes. Glen and Stimpy had earned his ire and he wanted to give three fold what they had to him.
The front was rigged, the shifting of the men outside told of the need to disarm and he was ready to bulrush his way through them if he could. It all depended on their weapons. His didn’t have the whole twenty-five hundred feet a second touch a bullet had. Instead, he’d be dealing with how much force he could create with his arms. Not broken, but most certainly in pain. Shoulders burned once again from him holding the stance needed for him to swing, fast and in a hurry.
With a creak, the plunger style door handle moved down and Onyx realized he hadn’t clenched every muscle. At least a dozen woke up, came to attention, letting him know their current bruise status while sending bolts of pain through his body. Adrenaline surged, masking the pain enough to where he could function. A gust of fresh air blew into the room as good old Stimpy stepped inside and Onyx jabbed the poker forward, his thrust so great he thought he might have stabbed him by the way he was unable to pull back. No matter, he’d hit hard enough for him to bend at the waist allowing him to smash him over the head with the chair leg.
Glen raced into the cabin and Topaz slammed the door closed. Then swung the wood chair leg like she was in the majors.
The hit hard enough, so he bent backwards, his belly exposed as he flipped around to face her. “You bitch!” Raising his fist, prepared to smash Topaz’s face like he’d done to Onyx’s prone body.
Onyx caught sight of her panic seconds before grasping the muzzle and yanking it from his hands. Catching him by the arm, he turned him around, as the panic shifted to good old Glen once he realized Onyx was the one holding him. Fingers digging into his bicep as Onyx twisted it back. Making the man bend to his will, the training he received with the LAPD, both sanctioned and not, returning to him like a long lost lover. The moves fluid and familiar.
Clearly with the upper hand, he punched him hard before Topaz swung again. This time hitting the man over the head with the chair leg and knocking him flat on the floor.
The guy rolled and kicked at Onyx, but he was ready and blocked him enough it hit his arm. Pushing up, he regained his footing as old Stimpy writhed in pain by the bed.
Topaz eyeing him as blood pooled from his belly and darkened his shirt.
Holy shit, Onyx hadn’t thought the poker sharp enough, now he knew better and was ready to use the weapon again. Glen swung, but Onyx deflected, then hit him in the face with his fist gripping the chair leg allowing for at least double the force. His hand indenting his face as the sound of cracking bones echoed in the tight room. There was no doubt he did some damage, but the guy swung back, punching him in the ribs with a wicked under cut. This time, Onyx heard his own bones crack. The snap triggering already tender areas sending off a tidal wave of pain. A rush sending him over the edge and not allowing him to stop. Dropping the weapons, he flew at Glen. Fists balled as pain from a dozen places sent him and over the edge while he pounded his face until he could no longer feel his arms.
Struggling and numb, he reached for the poker and sliced it across his opponent’s chest. Blood dripped from the gash as the broken and should be beaten man stood. Fuck me, Onyx thought, the man had to be on something. The only thing worse than a man tripping balls, was a psych patient off his meds. It was as if God stole their ability to reason, feel pain, or even register potential danger, so there was no stopping them. The twitchy eyes and dilated pupils he’d missed the first time around. Had good old Glen gone for a hit of something sweet while he and Stimpy made their run.
“You son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you!” The man pushed through and stumbled as he swung. At least, he wasn’t the only one feeling the rush, crash, rush of sore body parts.
Onyx snagged his fist and wrenched it back, giving him a perfect angle for a few good hits, forcing him to the ground on his knees. “Kneel before Zod!” Onyx howled, enjoying the man who’d called him less, called him nothing on his knees before him. The man had seemed to like the classics, so who didn’t love a little black superman in the evening?
“You’re a dead man.” The man shoved his fist forward, sending both men into the wall as he rose from the ground. Stepping back, he once again, went for Onyx’s stomach, then swinging with his left to the face.
This knocked Onyx down to one knee, his good one which meant pain was surging from the infected one from the hard plant of his foot to the ground. Raising his head, he took in the room. He couldn’t lose this fight, he had to get the upper hand. Glancing over
