BEAUTY AND HER BEAST
Okon pushed himself forward with his fists curled before him as he ducked under the blade his assailant swung at him. With a quick and precise thrust of his elbow at his assailant’s solar-plexus, Okon brought him down and out of the fight.
Quickly stepping over the fallen man, Okon turned and danced backwards and away from assailants #2 and #3 as they, in turn, stepped over their writhing and gasping comrade who had dragged them into the fight in the first place.
Okon danced backwards, careful to keep his distance from the men whose confidence in their impending victory was almost as palpable as the darkness that hung thickly around them a half hour before midnight.
The street was empty and quiet save for the dueling men whose shuffling and huffing and grunts bounced off the walls and buildings in Arroma District as it echoed into the cool night air in Awka, Anambra state. The men closed in on him, one armed with a lager bottle, broken to a crude but effective weapon, the other brandished a three foot piece of wood that looked like it was picked up from a carpenter’s workshop.
As Okon weighed his options, the shrill but commanding voice of Drill Sergeant Badejo permeated through his mind;
“When life gives you lemons… turn around and kick him in the nuts!”
Okon stumbled, almost losing his footing. His attackers dashed forward hoping to catch before he regained his balance. Stooping quickly, he picked up the piece of rock that caused him to stumble and hurled it at the wood wielding foe. A cry of pain was all that told his aim flew true as he turned his attention to face assailant #2 who was already thrusting his weapon at him.
Okon quickly stepped to left as the bottle breezed past his chest. The anger in him swelled, nearing an invisible crescendo as he forcefully brought his head down to greet his assailant on the face. A sickening crunch graced his ears as he lifted his head and he smiled as he was bathed in a spray of the blood of his enemy.
“The fight is not over until someone hits the mat!!!” Sgt. Badejo’s had also said.
Okon quickly reached out and grabbed his attacker by the scruff of his neck, pulled him in and with a well placed jerk of his knee, he crushed his testicles.
“Sweet Jesus!!!” the poor fellow crumbled to the floor in a pathetic whimper.
Okon stepped over the vanquished and in a burst of speed charged the last assailant tackled him to the ground even as the man lifted his weapon overhead. Both men fell in a tangle of limbs sending the attacker’s weapon flying out of his grip.
Quick to his feet, Okon crouched over his foe, and like a master smith working on a rather stubborn piece of ore, he proceeded to pummel his opponent again and again.
As his fists rained havoc on his foe, tears clouded his vision as his anger swelled and tethered on the brink of explosion. This no-good-son-of-a-bitch had put his hands on his Mimi, he held her down while the others had helped themselves to that which was never theirs in the first place.
The repeated thudding of strong bones falling against facial muscles slowly gave way to a sickening “Thwock!” as tender flesh was cut open by blunt fists. Blood flowed freely to the ground around the now unconscious man.
Okon pushed himself over the fallen foe, whose face was now hidden behind a veil of blood and broken flesh, as he rolled away from another attack from the unseen attacker.
He cursed silently as assailant #1 advanced on him rubbing his sore chest as he did. Warm tendrils of life blood trickled down his back that was a sharp contrast from the cool kiss of the chilly February night breeze that swept the streets and fanned dueling men.
He muttered under his breath. He let his anger overwhelm him, he let himself get carried away and now he was bleeding rather profusely.
“Calm down fool!” He told himself.
“Access the situation, find a weakness and where there is none; make one!” Sgt. Badejo’s voice rang out in his head again.
Thinking quickly, Okon reached for the wooden rod that had once graced the hands of his fallen foe and he struck assailant #1 on the knee.
The man barely had time to scream in pain as the now standing Okon brought the rod down on his head. Unable to dodge the attack, the man raised his knife arm to block the rod that was racing towards his face.
Both men yelled. The first cried in the excruciating agony of having his radius and ulna being broken by the overwhelming wrath of the Raging Beast of Arroma; the other in the savage glee of victory.
Okon stepped back and took a deep breath, watching the asshole who had dared to lay his hands on his Mimi
“When you have broken your enemies’ will to fight, break their spirit, so they will never dare to challenge you again”. The sergeant in Okon’s memory had a fierce scowl as he schooled his student in the ways of war.
Okon drew a deep breath, steadying himself. He took a step back, taking in the sight of a well deserved victory. He shifted the wooden rod to his left hand, keen eyes still trained on the blubbering and sputtering fool who had bragged to his friends that he had fucked up the Great Okon’s woman. In a double handed swing, he bashed the man’s head in as blood and probably cranial matter exploded outwards.
“That oughta send a message to all you other fuckers out there”
He dropped the weapon at the feet of fallen. Dizziness and fatigue and pain flooded his body as the effects of blood loss became apparent as adrenalin drained from his blood stream.
Okon turned away from the fallen trio as he made his way back to Mimi.
A picture of her beautiful face flashed before his eyes and that was quickly replaced by heavily bruised face with broken lips and swollen eyes. He shut his eyes to push those pictures away. He needed to get home before she awakened.
As he took his first step to her, memories of the man he was pre and post Mimi flashed through his mind in a constant flux of images that threatened to rub him of consciousness.
He would kill half the world before he ever lets her get hurt again…
To be continued…