On my left, I see an empty bench. Whistling a tune, I prowl towards it. As I pass the prisoners, every single one glances my way. None speak to me, though. Not even as I dip my chin in acknowledgment or greet them.
Oh, well.
I sit down on the bench and observe my fellow inmates from afar.Interesting.My personal Ezkai are not the only ones missing. I can see no other Ezkai guards patrolling the perimeter.
That’s awfully strange.
Unfortunately for me, I notice two inmates heading my way too late to get my ass out of the play area.
I have seen these two before. Their hair is long, woven into a single thin braid reaching all the way to their waist. Neither wears a shirt, but they don’t need to. The tattoos that cover every inch of their skin are like armor.
One has a scar that goes down the left side of his face, right through his eye. Unfortunate. I bet he used to be a ladies man before he was mauled by a bear.
Or a huge knife.
Could have even been a sword.
I’m not an expert.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” I say, flashing them a smile. “Came here to invite me to join your card game? I must warn you—I’m rather good with the dice. You definitely want me playing for your team.”
I don’t get an answer. At least, not a verbal one.
Scar Face grabs me by the shirt and swings a punch straight at my jaw. The impact might have rearranged my face, which I don’t appreciate.
Ignoring the pain, I spit out the blood and turn to face my attacker. I can barely manage a smile before another punch comes.
This time around, my ribs suffer.
Huffing a laugh, I bend forward.This motherfucker.
Scar Face tries to knee me in the face, but I block the move with crossed forearms. He grunts, and I straighten my back.
A wink.
I punch his square jaw, and before he can recover, I show his crooked nose some tough love, too. He stumbles back a few steps, blood pouring from his nostrils. His friend charges at me with a roar, fists swinging. With my bent knee, I catch his side, which makes him pause and groan.
Disregarding the blood, Scar Face comes at me, too.
I love a good threesome.
As they attack, I dodge and block, swift as wind. As a true gentleman, I allow them to get their blows in first.
Then, it’s my time.
Just as Scar Face swings a fist at me, I move sideways and get a good grip on the back of his forearm. Using his bodyweight and momentum against him, I twist his arm behind his back until I hear the satisfying pop as his shoulder slides out of its socket.
I let go of his limp arm and kick the backs of his knees. He stumbles down with a scream full of agony.
His comrade is on me before I get a moment to gloat. He catches the side of my face with a fist, splitting my lip.
Very ungentlemanly, I punch the middle of his throat. He chokes, eyes wide. Holding his head on both sides, I slam it down onto my knee. With a grunt, he loses balance and falls to his knees.
I whirl on my heel to see how Scar Face is doing.
A large fist meets me the second I do. The impact of the punch rattles my skull, my head dizzy.
I step away, trying to put the distance between me and my new attacker, who just joined in on the fun.
