Chapter 49: Chapter 49
Back-step, back-step, then—
Bam!
Uppercut to the jaw—or the beard in this case. His opponent didn't expect it and reeled back. Ordinarily, Owen would have followed up with a combo. He didn't or rather couldn't because his entire hand went numb.
'Ow. Ow, ow, ow!' He eyed his outstretched fist and the wrist attached to it. 'It's not like I haven't fought injured but this…this is different. I seriously can't feel it.'
Without feeling it, his fingers loosened up. More importantly, his bearded opponent wasn't done yet. Surprised and dazed, sure, but not out for the count.
"What the hell…"
"Are you alright, Bernard?"
"I'm fine, Captain." Bernard held his chin and controlled his breath. Blood dripped into his bushy beard. "This asshole packs a punch."
"Get serious then."
With that, Bernard went into a boxing stance, both hands up and feet bouncing. How painfully dull and predictable. The number of gangsters that learned boxing was too damn high. It was stale at this point. "Dude," Owen began, "you are not gonna be the next Mike Tyson. You should switch to Brazilian jiu-jitsu or something."
"I am the next Mike Tyson!" Bernard flew at him. His first fist missed as Owen went under it. The second fist was similarly dodged, though contact was quite close. The third would have landed—
"Ugh!"
If Owen didn't kick him in the shin. Bernard flinched and that was when Owen grabbed him by the head and slammed him into the wall nearby. He slammed him for a second time, then let him go. Bernard's world went in circles and he swayed left and right.
"S-shit…!" Bernard failed to stand up straight. His temple was bleeding badly, his brain rattled. He hit the opposing wall and slid down.
The captain glanced at Bernard, expressionless, then cast a look at Owen. "Something wrong with your wrist?" he asked.
He noticed. Well, Owen expected as much. He won a lion claw tattoo, if he wasn't moderately skilled, then his victory wouldn't have been warranted. The captain was observant and tempered. Luck had nothing to do with it.
"Meh, you know how it is." Owen rolled his shoulders casually.
"Hm." The captain stepped forward. Owen quietly tensed. He took a second step and to his surprise went over to help Bernard. The captain put his shoulder around Bernard's shoulder and helped him to his feet. "You alright?"
"S-sorry, captain."
"You're fine."
Owen put his hands in his pockets. The captain caught Owen's eye and explained, "I'm not a stupid. I know when I'm facing someone strong. I have a cage fight to attend in a couple days. Can't risk hurting myself." The captain glanced at Bernard who was wincing in pain. "Even if you did beat the shit out of my friend."
"My bad. Self-defence?"
The captain turned his back to him, Bernard hanging off his shoulder. He peered over his shoulder and said, "If you're ever in the business of fighting, then contact the Royal Lions. We're looking for people to sponsor in cage matches. Huge prize pools."
Owen did a double-take. "Huh? How huge?"
"The one I'm participating in…ten thousand dollars."
"…I thought after the Ferraris were caught, cage matches with huge prize pools like that were wiped across the board."
"Our leader is the former son of the Ferraris. He has some connections and leeway with the cops. You probably won't find cage matches anywhere else in the western hemisphere save here."
Owen put a hand to his face, sighing. "Seriously?" Owen came to the Bay to avoid exactly that. The fighting, the gangs, the corruption—the Bay was supposed to be the place where he could live quietly and stream.
"You seem to know a lot," the captain stated.
Owen shook his head and brushed past the bald man and his friend. "I gotta go. I have people waiting for me at home." Owen grabbed his bicycle and started running, leaping onto the seat once he gained enough momentum. The captain was surprisingly chill but that didn't mean everyone else was going to be. Better to leave before there were misunderstandings.
Owen arrived home, sighing, and opened the door to a quiet home. Ophelia and Isabella were asleep, it seemed. Quietly, Owen took off his green vest and tip-toed to the kitchen. He decided to make some fresh lemonade. Isabella would like it and he could use the refreshment.
"Shit…!" The lemonade slipped from his hand and rolled on the floor. His wrist was so damn numb, he could barely hold stuff now. Through sheer willpower, he forced his left hand to pull his right sleeve back. His breath hitched at the sight. The bandages were drenched in black. Not a scarlet red but a midnight black that was unnaturally thick. What in the world was happening to him? What was this liquid? It was on the verge of dripping yet didn't seem to.
"Mmph…" He heard footsteps and a sleepy yawn. "Owen…?" Isabella called out.
His fingers shaking, he pulled his sleeve back and picked up the lemonade. He inhaled sharply and gathered all the air he could. "Hi, Isabella," he greeted with a cheerful smile. The short-haired brunette smiled sleepily at his presence and zombie-walked into a hug.
Hiding his shaky breath, he patted her head.
"Anything happen lately?"
It was a casual question. She didn't suspect anything. She didn't know that he had…no, he hadn't. He hadn't gone back to his old ways. Today had been different. He saved someone. He fought for something other than himself.
"...nothing important. Say, about your next video, do you need help editing?"
"I would appreciate it." Isabella yawned at length. Her head lightly tapped against his chest. "I want to sleep for a long, long time."
She was playing catch-up because of the previous video. "I'll pick up the slack then. You just go on and head to sleep." He rubbed her back and pulled back on the hug, smiling down at her. "You're doing an amazing job. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
"I'll try."
"Also, when you wake up, there will be some lemonade."
"Mm, now I don't feel like sleeping."
Weekly Power Status
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