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“Fine by me,” Griz said.
Axe handles? Becca thought, a little confused until she saw them.
She’d been thinking of little axe handles, like from a hatchet, but what was brought out was a pair of handles from big, two-handed chopping axes. It would be like fighting with baseball bats, except these were flatter, and that flatter edge would make the force of a blow more devastating than from a round bat.
Mal took his axe handle from one of his Death’s Head cronies, swinging it around a few times experimentally. “Yeah, I’m gonna bash your brains in, asshole.”
Griz took his axe handle and said, “Keep dreaming.”
Everyone cleared out an area in the middle of both groups. Mal stepped into the impromptu arena, still swinging and twirling his axe handle around like it was as light as a feather.
Griz didn’t step in to meet him right away. Instead, he turned, and walked over to stand in front of Becca.
“Look,” he said, “I realize how much you hate violence. And after what you had to do with Ripper, I’m sure that was traumatic and the last thing you want to see now is more blood.”
“Griz…” she said.
“Let me finish. Sometimes, Becca, there is no other option but violence. Some people can’t be reasoned with. And the only way I can see forward to a future where you and I can be together is to put an end to the threat that Mal poses. Once and for all.”
Becca waited for a second and then said, “Are you done?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, first off, I am very proud that you used so many words all at once.”
Griz nodded. “And second?”
“Earlier, I was just going to say… kick his ass,” she said.
“Oh,” Griz said. “Okay.”
With that, he pulled off his jacket and his shirt, as Mal did the same. Griz stepped into the open space between the two groups and Becca was able to size the two of them up against each other.
Griz was taller by half a head, and was covered in lean muscle, but Mal was thick as an ox, with muscles on top of muscles. The juicehead had no neck; his traps went from his shoulders to the base of his skull, and his torso was as thick as a barrel.
The two men began to slowly circle each other, Mal constantly twirling his bat around, Griz looking like a tiger just waiting to strike. The entire time, Mal kept talking, constantly taunting Griz.
“Yeah, I fucked your old man up pretty bad, hunh?” he said. “Shot his ass up good. Heard he’s in a coma.”
Griz’s face began to get tighter, but he kept steady, his eyes focused on Mal’s hands as they continued to circle each other slowly.
“I hope he wakes up,” Mal said, grinning wide. “I hope he wakes up a cripple. Shitting in a bag for the rest of his life. Maybe you can wipe his ass for him.”
Becca was worried that all those taunts might throw Griz off his game, but all Griz said was, “You talk too much.”
“So come shut me up, motherfucker,” Mal said. “If you can.”
Griz made his move, springing toward Mal with a speed that was surprising for his size. He swung the axe handle overhand at Mal’s head, but Mal was able to knock it aside and then counterattack with a high swing of his own that looked like he was trying to hit a home run with Griz’s head.
Becca’s breath caught in her throat, but Griz ducked under the swing easily. Now he held his axe handle more like a spear, and he rammed the tip of it into Mal’s midsection.
Mal doubled over, grimacing in pain and backing away. Griz tried to follow up the attack, but Mal was able to keep him back with a series of wild swings until he was able to recover.
“You cocksucker,” Mal said, gritting through his teeth in pain. “Just for that, when this is over, I’m going to rape your bitch over there. Fuck her real good.”
He came back on hard, charging at Griz like a bull. Griz knocked his axe handle aside but before he could bring his own weapon down, Mal tackled him, slamming into him like a freight train.
Both axe handles went flying as the two men crashed to the ground. Immediately, they turned into a thrashing, flailing tangle of limbs, hitting at each other, grabbing at each other, both trying to get the upper hand in a wildly desperate wrestling match.
