9-The Fight

9

The Fight

Bob snapped awake on the couch to the sounds of gunshots and screams.  It took him a moment to realize that the sounds were coming from the T.V. he had left on.  He had fallen asleep on the couch again.  He sighed and ran his hand over his bald head.  The stress was getting to him.  He just wanted this all to be over.

He felt the tell tale urge in his groin, and he pulled himself off the couch and stumbled over the coffee table.  He moved into the barren kitchen with nothing but a card table, refrigerator and a chair left in it.  The bitch had taken everything.  He unzipped and felt sweet relief as his bladder began to evacuate into the toilet.

That’s when he heard the crash.

It was as loud as an explosion.  The sound of wood being shattered echoed through the house.  Bob finished quickly and zipped up, positive that noise hadn’t come from the T.V., he stepped out of the bathroom and into his kitchen.

 The blow hit him on his right side with such force he completely lost is footing and crashed through one of the only pieces of furniture he still owned.

“Tried to fuck the wrong guy, you little bitch!”  Ernie growled the words.

Bob tried to regain his footing and felt Burt’s hand around his neck dragging him to his knees.  Bob looked up, his face throbbing.  “Wait…  Please…  I don’t know what you’re-”

“Shut the fuck up!”  Burt yelled as he pulled his scalpel out and put it too Bob’s right eye.

Bob went silent.  The fear gripped him and if he had not just peed he would have soiled his pants.

Ernie leaned in.  “Alright asshole, now we want the truth about the deed and the money.”

Bob’s eyes shifted back and forth between his attackers.  “What are you talking about?!”

Ernie grinned.  “I see we are going to have to be a little more convincing.  Burt, take his eye.”

Bob began to scream the word “no” over and over again.  Burt just smiled.  After the day he was having, he needed to hurt someone.

None of them saw Hank coming.

****

Hank was very happy they kicked the door down.

Hank was happy because he had fallen asleep in the car and if they hadn’t, he probably would have slept through his big part in the scam.  Instead, he woke up just in time to watch them enter.  Hank opened the car door and stepped out.

Hank began to walk toward the house, yawning.  He shook his head.  He then began to stretch his arms out as he walked, working to get his blood flowing which was going to prove a difficult task.

Hank took off the stupid Stetson he was using to pretend to be Marshall and tossed it into the driveway.  As he closed in on the door, he could hear the screaming inside.  He stepped in quietly, coming into the kitchen behind Burt and Ernie.

He took a deep breath.

Hank grabbed Burt from behind, pulling the shocked man backwards, forcing him off balance.  Hank spun and turned to Burt.  His right hand went to the back of Burt’s head and slammed him, face first, into the refrigerator.

 The bald head struck with such force that it dented the refrigerator.

Burt dropped to the tile floor, blood dripping from his face.  He wasn’t unconscious but he might as well have been.

Ernie turned.  His eyes went to Burt on the ground holding his face and coughing then back to the Hank.  Hank stared back.

Ernie’s eyes narrowed.  “You picked the wrong one to take down first.”

Ernie flexed and Hank’s eyes went to Ernie’s massive arms and upper body and he couldn’t help agreeing.

Hank wished he hadn’t fallen asleep.

Ernie moved in and Hank brought up his guard, firing two quick, hard right-handed jabs into Ernie’s face.  Ernie had been struck enough times in his life to be used to this.  He walked through the blows without effect.  Ernie then came in with a hard hook to Hank’s right side abdomen.

The blow was epic, winding Hank slightly.  Hank lost his guard for that split second and Ernie, capitalized, bringing the same hand up with a huge shot to the bottom of Hank’s jaw.

Hank saw stars and stumbled backward finally losing his footing and falling to the carpeted floor of the living room.

Hank rolled backward trying to come back to his feet but Ernie’s one-two had done a number on him.

Desperation came into Hank’s head for the first time since he had been hired for the job.

 Am I really going to fuck this up?

Ernie was on top of Hank now, his right hand grabbing Hank’s ear to hold him while Ernie dropped the left down on Hank like a depth charge.  The blow caught the back of Hank’s shoulder and sent shockwaves through his body.  Ernie was stronger.

Stronger than anyone Hank had met.

Hank was in trouble and he knew it.  Ernie cocked his giant left fist back and Hank knew that if Ernie brought that fist down into the back of his head it was a done deal.  Hank had to do something.

Hank put all of his force into a hard hook to the side of Ernie’s right knee.  There was a pop and Ernie screamed in pain, releasing Hanks ear.  Hank had is opening, finally.  He rose with a right-cross to Ernie’s hard jaw line.  Ernie staggered and Hank followed through with a left-cross.

Ernie’s head whipped with the punch and a tooth flew across the room.

Ernie reeled backwards and Hank stepped in, putting his left hand into Ernie’s hair to steady his face as Hank wound up for the finisher.

Ernie was far from done.

Ernie threw his head forward, slamming his own forehead into Hank’s chin.

Hank let go and staggered and Ernie brought a big left-hook into the side of Hank’s face.  The blow spun Hank around and sent him ass over foot through Bob’s living room coffee table with a crash.

“Stay down, asshole!”  Ernie yelled as he turned and began to limp back toward the kitchen.

Hank shook his head and wiped the blood from his broken lip.  “Where the fuck, do you think you’re going?”

Hank scrambled into motion, taking two low running steps before throwing his whole body into the back of Ernie’s hurt knee.

 Ernie howled and fell backwards to the floor.  “MY FUCKING LEG!”

Hank pulled himself to his feet as Ernie pulled himself to a sitting position.  Ernie was wailing about his leg and clutching it in pain.  His attention was gone from Hank.

Hank stepped in, cocking his leg backward before kicking Ernie in the face like he was punting a football.

Ernie sprawled out backward.  He was done.

Hank pulled out his tobacco tin from his back pocket, breathing hard.  He flicked it twice to loosen it before grabbing a ridiculously large amount and jamming it into his jaw line.

“That wasn’t so bad.”  Hank mumbled to himself.

That’s when he caught the flash of movement out of his peripheral vision.  He tried to spin around to face it, but he was too late.

Burt had recovered and found is small but deadly tool.  The extremely sharp business end of the scalpel caught Hank’s shoulder and opened him up.  Blood poured out of the wound and soaked the arm off his button up.

“You know, the scalpel is the sharpest cutting tool there is?” Burt said as he waited for Hank’s next move, his hungry blade in front of him.  “Has to be, that’s why I use it.  It draws the most blood.”

Hank grabbed his arm and gritted his teeth.  He then looked back at Burt, blood running down his face from the cut the refrigerator had put in his forehead.  Burt’s right eye was also swollen shut.

“Jesus, what happened to your eye?”  Hank asked, suddenly, and Burt became enraged, charging Hank with the scalpel.

Hank was ready for this and moved to the right.  He had moved into the blind spot created by Burt’s swollen eye.  Burt lost sight of him.  This caused Burt to freeze and spin.

Burt spun into Hanks right hand.

The blow rocked Burt and he staggered.  Hank grabbed the back of his head and his belt and ran him forward, head first into the wall.  Burt’s head crashed into the drywall. His body went limp and he dropped to the floor.

Hank took a moment to catch his breath and look at his arm.  He then looked back at the two unconscious extortionists.  “Go back to Sesame Street, mother fuckers.”

Hank limped back into the kitchen where Bob was cowering in a corner.  “Here’s what you’re going to do.”

Bob looked up at him confused and Hank continued.  “You call the cops right now.  You tell them that you owe money to Leroy Simpson for an illegal game of poker you lost. You tell them that he sent these men to get the money and hurt you, and you tell them you will put this in a statement.”

Bob shook his head.  “He’ll kill me!”

Hank stared and shook his head.  “You are afraid of the guys I just ended?  You don’t get it, do you?  We are taking care of the problem.  Unless, of course, you want to become the problem?”

Hank’s hand balled into a fist and Bob shook his head.  “Good.  Now after they let you out, you will get a call from Savannah with instructions.”

Bob nodded.

Hank smiled.  “And not a word about me or Savannah, got it?”

Bob nodded.

Hank nodded then turned and walked out, picking up his hat out of the yard and heading to his car.

Bob waited two seconds before calling the cops in a frantic mess.

End Episode 9