One on the Chin

Posted on Sat 31st Oct, 2020 @ 9:40am by Radak & Yuliette Marayan Dr.

1,457 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Denouement
Location: Brown Sector

Of all the places Radak didn’t want to be today, this was definitely towards the top of the list. The fights had been going on down in Brown Sector for a long time. They started out as a way for different gangs to settle their disputes with one another. Get some of your biggest, toughest guys together and go at it. Kept anybody upstairs from noticing when fights spilled out elsewhere.

But, then, like with anything else, when people figured out that there was money to be made, it shifted gears. People always needed something to live on. When Radak first came to the station, he’d done some fighting for eating money. He was big and strong and knew how to use his hands from life with the Syndicate. Kainon pulled him out of it. Hadn’t been back since.

The crowd cheered as his young Bajoran opponent snapped a jab into Radak’s nose. It was hard enough to make his eyes water, and Radak backed away. The Bajoran, a kid named Sanna, didn’t close in to press his advantage like he should. He was playing to the crowd, which was why they liked him. Instead of closing, he threw a kick, a flashy thing aimed at Radak’s thigh and Radak turned his leg up, used his shin to batter Sanna’s knee back. The Bajoran winced and stumbled back and the crowd cheered.

---

(The day before, Radak’s home workshop)

Brushing sawdust from the top, Bo pulled up a stool he hadn’t been invited to sit on while Radak was working on a motor. All of Radak’s tools on the peg board walls and in the many half opened drawers looked threatening to Bo, who had never done any manual work since he’d started talking.

“The first fight is tomorrow.” Bo informed him. “The old pit in sector five-nine. You might remember it from years ago.”

“I remember it,” Radak replied. He hadn’t turned from his work since Bo came in, and reached up to grab a wrench. “Been awhile.”

Bo’s eye tracked Radak’s wrench hand, subconsciously always on his guard. “I bet against you, you know. Lost a fair sum, I’ll admit. I didn’t factor in how hungry you were.”

Radak paused in his work. Then he found a gasket that he’d reconditioned and started to fit it into place. It was exacting work. It was the kind of work he liked to do. “That was a long time ago.”

“Anyway, you’ll be competing against Sanna Ivol. He’s not used to some of the dirtier fighting, though. He’s a favorite under the lights, a crowd pleaser. Tends to take the ring up on the Drift, where the commission has rules and committees, that sort of thing. But the s59 pit has the bigger purse so he’s branching out. He seemed especially quick to take up our offer.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Radak said. “He makes a lot of noise. People who like him make a lot of noise.”

Bo smirked, which was a familiar expression on his face. “How often does one find the opportunity to hit the deputy with impunity?”

Radak paused again. “Happens more often than you might think.”

----

Sanna was a tall, handsome kid. Barely 21 if he was a day. Reddish-brown hair and a growth of beard that Radak imagined he thought was roguish. Lean and fit and fast as lightning. Radak was spending most of the fight blocking and absorbing blows. That was his usual style. Take the punishment because he could, wait for the chance to land a hit and wrap things up. Sanna was accommodating him.

Radak was seeping green blood from his cut lip, and he was protecting the VISOR he wore. He didn’t want to have to try to repair it again. Sanna danced in, throwing fast jabs followed by mean hooks. Radak took them on the forearms, and then lashed out his own, aimed at his chest. Sanna turned away from it and scored an uppercut. Radak’s head snapped up and he went for a grapple while Sanna celebrated his victory.

He laced his fingers behind Sanna’s head, pulled him down and threw two hard knees into his stomach, until he heard Sanna gasping for breath. Then he spun, twisting Sanna his grip and threw him into the wall. The lean Bajoran smacked against the wall hard, bounced off it. The crowd cheered some more as the kid got up, eyes angry and wary now. Radak waited, patient as a rock sitting in a flowing river, as if he had all the time in the world.

----

“Everyone knows Sanna is over reaching. He’s showy, and has his moments, but they’re going to size it up and the safe bet will be on you. All the safe bets will be on you.” Bo licked his dry upper lip. “So. None of that ‘I’m a stone and the energy of the galaxy flows around me’ nonsense you do.” Bo mocked.

You don’t know what I do, Radak thought. But he didn’t say it. He’d already agreed to whatever this farce was going to be. “And why’s that?”

“It can’t appear too easy for you. You can’t look like you’re yawning and having a personal meditation in the ring. You’ve got to make it seem like a fairly even match in the end. Sell it to them.”

----

Sell it to them.

Sanna came after him like a storm, now. He was fast, faster than Radak even on his best day. Hands, elbows, knees and feet. He wasn’t being showy, anymore. Wasn’t trying to be fancy. A punch slipped in high over his guard, jerked his head back. Followed up with a knee to the stomach. Radak doubled over, breath whooshing out of him.

One thing Radak had grown used to about the fight game: it was never fair. You never put two men in a ring to fight and have it be entirely square. He’d taken the occasional dive back in the day, when things were tight. You couldn’t eat pride.

Still, that was back in the day. And that was his decision. He sold the punches, letting them rock him hard, letting them push him back. His legs wobbled a bit. They were good hits. Solid. The kid has strength on top of all of his speed, but he still sold them. Shook his head, like he couldn’t think straight anymore. Lifted his arms to cover up. That just seemed to anger Sanna more, and the blows came more furiously now.

----

“I’m betting against you and this time I’ll more than recover my old losses.” Bo drew some lines in some sawdust on the workbench. They were figures. The amount he planned to take in. Bo wrote them so Radak would know how much of their agreement would be satisfied by this fight. “Give us a good show, but Sanna wins tomorrow.”

Radak paused again in his work. He closed the casing on the motor and tightened it back up. Then he said, “Sure.”

----
It was a roundhouse kick that did it. That kind of irritated him. Roundhouse kicks were usually slow. Flashy, sure. Crowd-pleasing. But they were slow and hard to land and generally stupid. Radak dropped his left and took it on the chin. It irritated him. Getting dropped by something like that. But it would be flashy and build the kid up and Bo would be satisfied and he’d leave Neone alone.

The crowd got on their feet. It was fun seeing a deputy get laid out. His legs folded under him and he collapsed on the floor. Made sure to land on his back, so he wouldn’t damage the VISOR. He hit the deck and didn’t move, just stared up at the ceiling and waited for it to be over.

Then it was, and the kid was out of the pit to collect his accolades. And then Radak sat up and spat some blood on the deck. Eventually, people would stop cheering and they’d focus on other things and he’d get up and go. He never did think to ask Bo how much money he was making on this.

Among all of the money changing hands, Bo stood raking it in, counting out the various denominations owed him. Despite his claimed amount scribed on the workbench the night prior, there was more of a windfall than he had anticipated. Bo would never tell.

 

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