Oh...fuck me.Two couldn’t get his arms up fast enough to block the reverse punch that came flying at his face almost too fast to see. A small bandaged fist came into full-contact with his left cheek and jaw, the sheer impact sending the young man staggering back, his feet slipping unsteadily on the dirt floor. As he was seeing stars, a knee came swinging into his stomach and he felt it all the way in his spine. He could barely hear the cheering roar of the crowd over the sound of his blood roaring loudly in his ears. Jumping back, he managed to right himself and straighten up, spitting blood and saliva onto the floor and wiping his bloody nose.
He put up his hands again and charged at his opponent once more, feigning a left before coming in with a roundhouse kick that she blocked with her arms, but knocked her off her balance. He took the opening to grab her by the waist and attempt to sweep her legs out, but she quickly side-stepped and now her leg was behind his. In one swift, impossibly strong move, she twisted out and he felt his bare feet lifting off the ground as she threw him over her shoulder. For a second he was floating in the air, feeling both incredibly helpless and light as a feather. Unfortunately, a second later, his shoulder and back slammed into the floor and he didn’t know where he was anymore.
Two gasped, trying refill to his lungs with the air that had just been knocked out of him. He groaned, not sure whether to be clutching his stomach, face, or arms. Everything hurt. He could hear the announcer’s fuzzy voice exclaiming that she had won the fight and there was raucous cheering all around the ring. Of course no one had bet on him. He certainly wouldn’t have. A head blocked out the light above him and a small hand, splattered with his blood, was offered to him. Two took the hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by the much stronger girl. She gave him a smug look and a high five before walking off to nurse her wounds, of which there were significantly fewer than he had. Merlin, he hated fighting Cassia.
“I said not the face,” he called after her, rubbing his jaw to make sure it wasn’t dislocated. Bruised, but not broken. “This is how I get tips, Cas! I need to pay rent!” Without even turning around, she gave him a very rude hand gesture and then left the ring.
Two grabbed his towel off the side of the ring and gingerly hopped over it as the announcer shooed them off to prep for the next bout. Two pushed through the thick, sweaty crowd of people, trying to find somewhere to sit so he could take stock of his injuries. Doc Holiday was pretty tired of seeing him in the HQ infirmary and he didn’t really want to have to face her again tonight. Maybe just a stiff drink and a cold pack for his entire body.
Just as he was emerging from the crowd, he caught sight of a familiar face. Watson. He’d been seeing his cousin around a lot more often recently, mostly because they traveled in similar circles now, but they hardly said more than a few words to each other since they were both usually busy with something illegal.
“Watson,” Two said, coming up to his cousin. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?” Two wiped more blood off from his nose. “Sorry you had to see that. I’d make some kind of excuse about being off my game tonight, but everyone knows that Cassia— you remember her, right?— kicks my ass every time we fight. I hope you didn't bet on me out of family loyalty tonight, cause that would be pretty stupid of you.”
@Watson Wolfram
