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Clearly with the upper hand, he punched him hard before Topaz swung again. This time hitting the man over the head with the chair leg and knocking him flat on the floor.
The guy rolled and kicked at Onyx, but he was ready and blocked him enough it hit his arm. Pushing up, he regained his footing as old Stimpy writhed in pain by the bed.
Topaz eyeing him as blood pooled from his belly and darkened his shirt.
Holy shit, Onyx hadn’t thought the poker sharp enough, now he knew better and was ready to use the weapon again. Glen swung, but Onyx deflected, then hit him in the face with his fist gripping the chair leg allowing for at least double the force. His hand indenting his face as the sound of cracking bones echoed in the tight room. There was no doubt he did some damage, but the guy swung back, punching him in the ribs with a wicked under cut. This time, Onyx heard his own bones crack. The snap triggering already tender areas sending off a tidal wave of pain. A rush sending him over the edge and not allowing him to stop. Dropping the weapons, he flew at Glen. Fists balled as pain from a dozen places sent him and over the edge while he pounded his face until he could no longer feel his arms.
Struggling and numb, he reached for the poker and sliced it across his opponent’s chest. Blood dripped from the gash as the broken and should be beaten man stood. Fuck me, Onyx thought, the man had to be on something. The only thing worse than a man tripping balls, was a psych patient off his meds. It was as if God stole their ability to reason, feel pain, or even register potential danger, so there was no stopping them. The twitchy eyes and dilated pupils he’d missed the first time around. Had good old Glen gone for a hit of something sweet while he and Stimpy made their run.
“You son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you!” The man pushed through and stumbled as he swung. At least, he wasn’t the only one feeling the rush, crash, rush of sore body parts.
Onyx snagged his fist and wrenched it back, giving him a perfect angle for a few good hits, forcing him to the ground on his knees. “Kneel before Zod!” Onyx howled, enjoying the man who’d called him less, called him nothing on his knees before him. The man had seemed to like the classics, so who didn’t love a little black superman in the evening?
“You’re a dead man.” The man shoved his fist forward, sending both men into the wall as he rose from the ground. Stepping back, he once again, went for Onyx’s stomach, then swinging with his left to the face.
This knocked Onyx down to one knee, his good one which meant pain was surging from the infected one from the hard plant of his foot to the ground. Raising his head, he took in the room. He couldn’t lose this fight, he had to get the upper hand. Glancing over at Stimpy, the pallor of his face letting him know he wasn’t about to move, not from his current comfy spot of the bed. He may try, but Onyx doubted the man could move more than a step before collapsing.
Topaz had taken over beating Glen with her chair leg on the back. Causing him to double over while slapping at her legs trying to unbalance her. All, while she smashed down as hard as she could with the splintered makeshift bat. With a pull, her leg was airborne and so was she. Ass over teakettle style, as she fell back and onto the dying Stimpy.
Onyx grabbed Glen by the arm and turned him enough to face him. Once again, a hard blow to the man’s face made him wonder how weakened he’d become during their beatdown. Even high as hell the man should be down by now. Instead, it took a swift punch to the man’s gut followed by loud pop as if Barry Bonds had just hit one out of the park and he looked up to see Topaz panting with the chair leg at her side.
Glen lay flat on the floor with blood pooling from the base of his skull and a large gash down to the white meat.
Stimpy struggled, pulling himself up with whatever possible life that was left in him. His shirt completely blood soaked and he wasn’t moving too fast. Finishing him would be less of a task and more of an inconvenience.
One step and an upper cut to the solar plexus doubled him over.
His hand raised in surrender. “Son of a bitch.” The man groaned, coughing up blood on to the floor with a splash.
Onyx had one final bash to the man’s nose and again in the mouth, finally knocking him to the floor next to his bestie.
Snagging Topaz by one hand and the poker with the other, he opened the door and they ran to freedom. “Come on, now’s our chance. Let’s go.” Once they stepped out—the vastness of the surrounding pines overtook him. They had a truck and when he pulled open the door, he tossed the fireplace poker on the seat then flipped down the visor. No keys fell, he checked the seat and then saw Topaz by the door, her fingers messing with the prima cord.
“What the fuck? Topaz?” he asked as he stood on the other side of the pick-up’s door.
“Shut up,” she said waving him off.
“You know I could have just bowled them over and ran, the point was to not die in the process,” he called as she finished her messing with the cord and came to the truck.
“What? It was a simple pad trigger. Nothing fancy.”
“Brick get bored in between dances?” he questioned, a ting of jealousy eating at him from a place unknown. “Start breaking down specks.”
“We’re not there yet,” she said rounding the truck and climbing in the passenger side.
“You wouldn’t have happened to snag the keys from old Glen and Stimpy in there would you?”
Her eyes instantly shot to the newly reengaged trigger she’d set up, then she scooted across the bench seat in the old pick up and popped the casing on the steering wheel. “I can hotwire,” she said, grabbing an empty can of beer from the floorboard and using the sharp edge of the opening to strip the wires.
“This part of Brick’s five easy steps to end your life early?”
Topaz’s blue eyes were darker, only having the interior truck lights to illuminate them as she narrowed them, then quirked her lips into a sexy, sweet smile.
“How about you drive?” Onyx ran around the truck and got in on the passenger side, still searching for the illusive keys and wishing the men hadn’t taken them inside.
The smell of electricity burning filled the cab of the pick-up as a few sparks arched below the dash. Movement in the cabin had him gripping the poker with one hand and bracing his other on the dashboard.
“Topaz,” he said, a warning tone coming from his voice as the pixie car thief groaned below.
