Bruno's story starts out in 1773 on a London dead end street when Brita stomped on his feet. There was no warning as she dashed past the alley and crashed into Bruno. The breath was buffeted from her body and her head clipped his chin. Bruno was bounced back against the brick wall while Brita dropped like a rock, dazed. Bruno blinked in surprise.
Brita was a pretty, little lady with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. She was busty bosomed above a lithe lower figure. She was a friend of Bruno's. Before he could squat beside her the source of her flight appeared on his right. Four rugged ruffians ceased running to study Bruno. For a few moments everyone stood silent studying each other and debating their next actions. Bruno realized Brita's clothes were ripped to ribbons, revealing a lot of pretty parts. Clearly she had been fleeing from the men. Bruno recognized the leader and knew him by name. John Tillman was over six foot tall, big boned and well-muscled. Greasy, long dark hair spilled past his shoulders and he had a thick beard. Cruel green eyes glared at Bruno with recognition and malice, but also some doubt. Bruno had seen two of the three others before, but didn't know them by name. However, Bruno reasoned if they were running with a devil like Tillman, they were likely demons as well.
"This is none of your business, Bruno! Walk away!" Tillman barked at Bruno and revealed the thirty inch long cudgel he kept on his belt. His trio of followers followed his example revealing knives and clubs. Still, they hesitated as they eyed Bruno. Bruno was just 17 and stood only two inches under six feet tall, but he was massively muscled. His blond hair was close cropped and pale blue eyes peered out from a good looking face, but he bore a batch of scars from past fights like a road map over his bronze skin. A fierce mustache curled over his lip and dark stubble lined his features. He looked like a lad used to fighting.
"She's my friend and hurts. I'm taking her home." Bruno responded with a glance at Brita as she shook off the hard collision.
"Then you'll die with her." Tillman smirked and almost casually reached into his coat to pluck out a pistol. But the punk's pistol caught in his shirt lining, snagging his draw short.
Bruno dropped by a busted brick beside Brita. He snatched and cast the missile with a pretty perfect pitch. The brick chopped into Tillman's cheek and his knees buckled from the blow. He slumped in a heap on the street. None of the other three apparently carried pistols because they rushed in a bunch at Bruno.
Bruno's baton slipped in his fist as he waded in the fray with his new foes. His wood baton smacked one attack aside, parrying a club about to clobber his cranium. Bruno lunged low with a blow that knocked the knee of his attacker. The ruffian foundered and fell.
Still in a crouch, Bruno barely blocked a knife dice dipping down at his face. Bruno’s club swiped the knife aside and he aimed a left hand punch to nail the man's nuts. His aim was on and the guy skated back beyond reach with tender testicles. Bruno tried to hit him again, but couldn't.
The third foe's knife strike skewered Bruno's shoulder from behind. The blade almost impaled him, but was stopped by Bruno's brawny back muscles and shoulder blade bone. It still hurt like hell and sent him stumbling. The guy tried to pry his embedded weapon out of Bruno. Bruno responded with a clout of his cudgel to split the guy's skull open from forehead to face. He sprawled in the street.
Bruno appraised his final standing foe. The guy was clearly having second thoughts as he shuffled further back with his knife raised. Suddenly a smile brightened his ugly face as he glanced past Bruno. Bruno warily changed position to keep the knife in his eye line while also looking back. Bruno's stomach went queasy. He felt ready to shit himself as he spotted Tillman on his feet again pointing the pistol at Bruno's body from twenty feet away. Bruno wondered if he'd survive the shot.
Tillman screamed in a soprano that impressed everyone as he missed Brita behind him. She used her long hatpin like a lance that she speared in his ass. The steel sank deep through the meat and broke on a bone beyond his right butt cheek. His pistol popped thunderously, spewing a conflagration cloud of smoke and muzzle fire. The lead ball walloped into the wall behind Bruno and ricocheted away skipping on the street with some sparks and a weird whistle of flight. Bruno didn't dawdle, he rushed and punched past the smoke to swat Tillman's skull with a crunch of his club. Tillman went down again sporting a new cut and welt weeping blood in a puddle. The knife guy still standing fled leaving his friends in the mess they'd made.
Cautiously Bruno studied the scene. Tillman and a friend were out cold. The other guy was actually crying while clutching his knee. Brita rose up by Bruno's side and gently touched his arm and tugged. He let her lead him away to walk down the back alley. It was only then she realized a knife jutted from Bruno's back.
"Good God, Bruno! You've got a knife in your back! Should I pull it out?" Brita was quite concerned.
"No. I'll bleed more than ten. Let's go home. My mom can handle it." Bruno grunted back. The pain was starting to pierce past the adrenaline jolting through him." He'd have shot me. Thanks."
"You saved me first. They tried to rape me. I managed to break free and flee. Then I ran into you." Brita explained.
"Someone should have killed Tillman by now. I guess that's his newest gang." Bruno opined.
"They were in the tavern last night. He pinched my ass and I dashed beer in his face. He was ordered out. I guess he wants revenge. Some men think that squeezing my tit and boobs is part of my waitressing job. It's not. This looks bad, Bruno." Brita was still fretting over his wound as they walked quickly and she applied pressure to it with a rag of her destroyed dress. The blood surged over her hand and she showed no squeamishness about it." Don't you fight, Quince tonight?"
"I do." he agreed grimly.
"You'll have to cancel. You can't fight like this." Brita told him.
"I have to fight tonight or I'll lose a lot of money." Bruno stubbornly insisted.
"You'll get yourself killed or hurt badly!" Brita argued.
"Let's wait until my mom dresses the wound first. Then you two can double team me with objections." Bruno suggested.
Brita bit her full lower lip. She was three years older than him and they shared a strong friendship after eight years as neighbors. She made good tips waitressing at the huge tavern called "Pete's Pugnacious Pub." Pete had a big ring in the bar where fights constantly flourished in all forms from fisticuffs to knife fights and even women competed there. Bruno was a young up and comer that currently had a twenty and two win/loss record. If he won the fight tonight, Quince would pay about forty pounds. Even if he fought and lost he'd walk away with about twenty pounds. For him it was by far the most money he'd ever even dreamed of holding in hand. All his past battles had lured him the opportunity he had because crowds loved Bruno. The hard drinking and fight loving patrons were largely blue collar types that considered Bruno one of them. He worked on the docks shoveling coal into bags aboard cargo ships for transport to shore. He also unloaded anything else he was told to. Often the workers hung around for hours and were lucky to earn two pounds a week.
They reached Bruno's home and he used his keys to enter. His mom Nia looked up from her seamstress work and her dark eyes opened wide seeing the knife bristling from her boy's back. She rushed across the room with a frightened gasp and helped him over to lay on the hardwood floor for her to examine. She said nothing as she pushed Brita's hands aside to inspect the blade before bolting back and forth clutching her medical bag that contained a wide assortment of items. Brita was babbling what happened. Nia's almond eyes locked with Brita and she spoke quietly.
"Keep pressure on it. I'm going to heat up a metal brand. If it bleeds too much I'll have to cauterize it. If it’s not too bad I'll need you to help hold the cut skin close so I can sew it. Understand?" Nia explained and asked.
"Yes." Brita agreed.
Nia handed Bruno a wadded piece of leather." Bite on this, Bruno. This will hurt."
“Sure. “He agreed simply and chewed on it.
Brita found her eyes straying to Nia's face as she worked on the wound. Nia was a mix of Chinese and Caucasian. Long dark hair framed her fine facial features. Her figure was slender and shapely. She didn't look her forty plus age. She was an expert seamstress and made a lot of pretty clothes for women and men in the open space above a small store and restaurant below. Bruno and his mother had made their own rooms in the dorm space behind the store, woven. It was a spacious place. Behind Nia, Brita could see the far room where Bruno lifted his barbells and beat up human looking dummies Nia had sewn together with sand under the tough leather. Brita knew some of those dummies and the dumbbells once belonged to Bruno's father, Brutus. Brutus had been a fairly famous fighter in local lore. He'd died in the ring when a piece of bone from his nose gnashed into his brain, killing him. Bruno was only 11 when he watched it happen.
Brutus was part French and Spanish. He was a monstrously muscled, good looking man. Bruno had inherited his father's appearance and had followed in his footsteps, despite Nia's constant criticism trying to talk him out of fighting. That one subject was the only fracture in their relationship. Aside from that they shared a close relationship. Nia had watched her husband die in the ring. She refused to attend Bruno's fights.
Within a half hour Nia had sewn the wound closed with impressive stitching. Bruno was up. Nia offered him some laudanum for the pain. "No. I've got to fight tonight." he reminded her.
"You can't fight with that shoulder!" Nia objected.
"Even if I show up and lose I make twenty pounds!" Bruno stated grimly." I'll make forty pounds if I win."
"Quince is a monster. That shoulder won't hold up in the ring." Nia frowned at him, simmering with anger.
"I can't fight about this now, Mom." Bruno sighed." I'm going."
"You're going to end up just like your father did!" Nia stomped a small foot down in anger.
"People die every day around here, Mom!" Bruno spat back." They die doing backbreaking jobs for pennies an hour. There's all kinds of bad ways to die around here. If I die doing what dad did then at least I took my shot at doing something I love. I don’t want to spend my life scrounging by until I die. I don't know how far I can take it. But for tonight I've got a chunk of money coming if I show up. If I don't go, then all those past fights were wasted efforts. I'm showing up."
Brita felt slightly guilty and slightly fascinated watching them argue. She wished she could help, but was powerless. She was close to both of them. But she understood Bruno's position, even if she didn't agree with him. Nia sighed and turned away, shaking her head sadly. There came a time when a mother's will and control of their child largely ended. Bruno had reached that point in life. It scared her beyond words worrying about her son being killed or crippled in the ring. He was an adult and she couldn't stop him. All she could be was a bystander as he stubbornly followed his own wishes.
***
Bruno had to admit he had second thoughts as he gazed at Quince across the ring. Quince had a 47 and 1 fight record. He stood nearly seven foot tall and had a very bulky body with some fat layered over his muscles. His limbs were long and rippled with muscle under a thin fat layer. He was a malevolent looking man with a face full of crudely sewn scars from past injuries. His eyes were dark and scary as he glared at Bruno. He had tattoos on his face and close cut dark hair. The ring was actually a hard packed sand pit larger than boxing rings usually were. Posts stood up at four corners strung with ropes. The pub patrons surrounded the ring on the first floor jockeying for better views. There was a second story and that level was packed with more patrons peering down at the ring.
The crowd's blood lust had already been whetted while watching two prior pugilists. Two attractive female fighters had fought bare breasted in a brutal battle with no rules. The taller, leaner lady had prevailed, pummeling her opponent almost senseless before choking her unconscious. The next fight was between a pair of swordsmen with sabers. Their blades had stabbed, slashed and clashed phenomenally fast as they danced in forms of combat. Both were obviously superb swordsmen. They inflicted considerable injuries on each other for about three minutes. Then the taller swordsman's saber tunneled through his foe's torso, transfixing him. The blade impaled the left of his chest, narrowly missing his lung. The victor withdrew his weapon and the lanced man fell in the sand. He was carried out on the way to be seen by a half drunk doctor in the backroom area. Then it was Quince and Bruno's turn.
Brita briefly caught Bruno's eye as she carried drinks to patrons. Bruno was surprised how scared she looked. He flexed his bare hands and feet. Neither fighter wore footwear or gloves. In the ring, their only padding was a form of codpiece each to protect their groins. In addition, Bruno bit down on an improvised mouth guard that his mom had made for him to protect his good teeth. She'd made one just like it for his father long ago. The design had served both father and son quite well. Then someone banged the bell with a hammer and the two gargantuan gladiators rushed each other.
For most of the folks watching it was a confusing blur of blows, holds, throws and rolls. The whirlwind of whiplashing limbs did damage to both brawlers. Then everything switched to slow motion. Quince had clearly gotten the better end of the brawl and had gained a mounted position intending to pepper punches down drumming Bruno's face. Quince was confused to find himself in a triangular choke where Bruno's legs were wrapped around Quince's neck and pinned his right arm as well. The Jiujutsu triangle choke was a move Brutus had taught Bruno as a boy when they played wrestling.
Quince went from surprised to scared as his neck's carotid artery was pinched off by Bruno's constricting legs. Quince put all his power into rising up to his feet and body slamming Bruno beneath him on the hard sand. The wallop woofed the wind from Bruno and broke his grip. Quince's hands were like hammers raining down on Bruno. Bruno managed to absorb most of the mauling on his beefy arms while also knocking Quince's arms out in a series of arm strokes as if swimming.
Suddenly Quince found himself shocked again as Bruno locked a Jiu Jitsu arm bar on him. Bruno desperately cranked on Quince's arm trying to injure it. But once again Quince's pure power prevailed as he frenetically floundered around into a new position. He nailed Bruno's noggin with several strikes before Bruno bowled him over with a sock to the skull. Bruno tried to lock a guillotine choke on Quince's throat. But the big thug slugged his gut and slung him aside to tumble on the sands.
Bruno rolled up and both fighters paused to study each other with new respect. Quince rushed and punched, but this time Bruno ducked and chucked a punch that nailed the nape of Quince’s neck. The precise punch dumped Quince face first in the sand out cold.
Bruno had won.
The crowd exploded even louder with the gambling winners’ and losers’ emotions. Bruno felt dazed and confused. He reeled on his feet seeing dancing spots of light. Brita was suddenly by his side guiding him along. Brita put him in a chair.
“I’ll walk you home because you need to be cleaned up,” she advised him.
“Does winning money suddenly make me more attractive?" he had to ask.
"Tonight it does," she agreed
Bio:
Tom Kropp’s work has appeared in The Horror Zine, Chiron Review, Churches, Children and Daddies, Down in the Dirt, Freedom Fiction Journal, Short-Story Me, J Journal, Dark Harbor, Blood Moon Rising, Flash Phantoms, You Phantomaniacs Anthology, Lowlife Lit, The Listening Eye, Evening Street Review, Conceit, Spotlight on Recovery, Muscle and Fitness, Outdoor Life and many other magazines. His play Jailhouse Confessions was performed at the Kennedy Center in Washington, DC in 2019. You can find more of his writings at tomkropp.wordpress.com. He has many audiobooks and eBooks available free through Google Play books.