Big Red vs. Plague

Big Red vs. Plague

"Pick it up," he says. It's kind of strange for this guy who's been trying to beat the shit out of me for a half hour to give me a chance to pick Eddie back up. It might be a trick, but something about this guy in an armored skull shaped hockey mask makes me think he's not screwing around. But what kind of psycho wants me to pick up the baseball bat that just broke two of his ribs?

"Thanks," I instinctively say. I almost laugh at how stupid it sounds thanking someone during a fight to the death. But it is polite of him to let me get my weapon back.

These damn metal arms of mine feel like they've been run over by a train. Of course, if I was still a normal human, I'd just be a stain on the floor by now. But I forget all about the pain after I feel Eddie back in my hands. I hold him out, ready for anything this bastard tries. I should say something intimidating.

"Batter up, baby."

He's not scared. I can hear his heart beat with my cybernetic eardrums. It hasn't changed since we started this fight. And that steady heartbeat is the only thing I hear as he leaps at me with both of his sticks. This guy is good. I instinctively block one with Eddie and one with my left forearm. Ow. The smack of wood against wood and wood against metal echoes through the parking garage like a damn gunshot. This guy is as strong as I am. That's the first time that's happened.

He can fight, too. He ducks my swing and, in the same motion, counter attacks with one of his sticks. Stupid! I over extended! My head rattles as the end of the stick almost knocks the head off my neck. I'm dead if I fuck up again. So I've got to end this. I throw my body behind a sidekick to his gut. There's nothing like the feeling of crushing the air out of someone. This fight is mine. Shit! He just took it! He just lets out a muffled grunt while he rolls with the impact and swings his sticks at me.

This is going to hurt. He waited for me to commit and he caught me. I deserve this one. Noise explodes in my ears as his twin filipino fighting sticks come from above my head and hammer symmetrically into my shoulders. Just stay conscious. You can take it. Fuck. I don't know what hurts worse, the sticks hitting my shoulders or my left knee hitting the ground.

I'm seeing stars, but I can still spot my opening. This one has got to count. I drop Eddie and clench my right hand into a fist. I put every last ounce of energy I have into the hardest god damn uppercut I've ever thrown. It connects like a wrecking ball as the bottom of his armored face mask shatters and his body flies 20 feet into the side of a car. Shrapnel and glass bounce hard off my body as he crashes into the back seat. I can barely see his legs in the wreckage. It's over. It better be over, that punch would have put a hole in a tank.

"You like it, you bitch!" I yell. I just won the toughest.... wait. He's alive. After my ears stop ringing, I can hear him back out of the car. This fight isn't over yet. I painfully reach down for Eddie while he emerges from the wreck. His latex suit is torn to shreds and I can see most of his naked back covered in blood. I'm sure a lot of it is mine.

"I did like it," is all he says as he turns towards me. With his mask shattered, I can see most of his swolen, scarred face. Jesus Christ. He's smiling.

"Fine, fucker. Let's finish it."