Victor Peters fell to the ground, blood dripping from his broken nose. Aaron Clark began kicking him with vicious ferocity until his friend told him that Victor had had enough. Victor got up, bloody and almost broken.
“Get out!” Aaron shouted at him “Don’t let me see you again or next time it will be worse!”
Victor limped away while glaring a Aaron. He had but one thing on his mind.
He had hired him a few years ago to take care of another enemy. Victor hoped he would get him this time for easter. Aaron needed to be disposed of...
Holiday Man really didn’t like Easter. All he had were a dozen colorful metal eggs with spikes on them, six grenades shaped like carrots and colored orange, and a colorful pistol with a strawberry scent. That last one humored him.
His target, Aaron Clark, frequented fight clubs, so that was where Holiday Man was headed. He’d been to a few, and knew that they were brutal. But, to Holiday Man, entertaining.
The building that held the fight club was a beaten down looking ware house. Holiday Man knocked on the back door and it opened a crack. The man on the other side glare at him.
“What do you want?” the man asked. Holiday Man heard cheers and boos behind the man. They were faint, as though muffled by walls..
“I wish to spectate a few fights at your fight club,” Holiday Man told the man.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said. As he closed the door, Holiday Man said calmly, “Blood house.” That was the password.
The man at the door glared at Holiday Man for a few seconds, then opened the door. “Fine. Come in.”
Holiday Man entered gladly and followed the sound of cheers to a room filled with people. All of the people were standing around a large painted white square. Inside of the white square were two men throwing vicious punches at each other. One, a bald man with multiple tattoos covering almost his entire body, was pummeling the other man mercilessly. The other man was a thin looking man with short red hair and blood flowing all over his face.
Holiday Man stood in the midst of the roaring crowd as the red haired man fell to the cement. The bald man gave one final kick to the red haired man’s face before raising his arms up in victory.
That bald man was Aaron Clark, Holiday Man’s new target. He planned to take him down after the fights. Fewer witnesses that way.
Unfortunately for Holiday Man, it was five fights later that the fight club closed. Holiday Man stood by a wall while the crowd filed out. Aaron was gathering his stuff and talking with his friends. Once the last spectator was out, Holiday Man walked over to Aaron.
Aaron looked up at Holiday Man. “What do you want?”
Holiday Man pulled a spiked egg out. “I want to kill you.” He made Aaron flinch as he threw the egg. But instead of throwing it at Aaron, he threw it at one of his friends, a fat blonde man. The egg hit the man’s head and killed him.
Aaron stared at the dead man, then turned to Holiday Man and said, “You’re Holiday Man, aren’t you?”
Holiday Man smiled. “Indeed I am. You’ve heard of me?”
“Yeah you killed one of my best friends on New Years a couple years ago. Who hired you?”
“The same person who hired me to kill your best friend,” Holiday Man said while taking out another egg.
“Wait,” Aaron said. “I challenge you to a fight in the blood stained ring.” He indicated the white square arena.
Holiday Man was surprised. “Really? You’re challenging me to a bare knuckle fight?”
“Yeah, and if I win, my friends and I get to kill you,” Aaron told him.
Holiday Man smiled, thinking of his punch. “And if I win, youandyour friends will die by my hand.”
“Sure,” Aaron agreed. His friends took on a look of surprise, but he told them, “You know I’m going to win. I’ve never lost a match. Plus, look at that guy, he’s wearing a tuxedo.”
With his friends reassured, Aaron walked into the ring and took his shirt off, revealing the tattoos again. Holiday Man mearly walked into the ring with his tuxedo on.
Far too easy, he thought.
One of Aaron’s friends shouted “fight” and Aaron began throwing punches. Holiday Man lazily dodged the blows, with Aaron getting angrier with each miss.
A few swings later, Aaron almost hit Holiday Man. His eyes grew wide and the next swing came. Holiday Man caught Aaron’s fist, crushed it, and punched him.
Aaron was sent flying and the process of Holiday Man’s punched took action again: the neck breaks, the neck breaks again on the landing, the nose is broken, the jaw is snapped, and the face almost caves in.
Aaron lay dead on the ground, his friends staring at him with fear.
“Well,” said Holiday Man, “I believe I have to kill you all.” As he said that, he took out his colorful strawberry scented pistol.
Aaron’s friends made a run for it, but they were all shot down swiftly by Holiday Man. With each shot, a strong strawberry smell spread through the air.
The owner of the fight club ran in shouting at the sound of gun shots. Holiday Man knew he would have to kill him and was about to, but was hit with the memory of his last weapon: the carrot grenades.
Holiday Man took one out, pulled out the green metal leaf part, and threw it at the man. It hit him in the knee and exploded as he fell.
Holiday Man looked around the room one last time to make sure there weren’t any other witnesses. Then took off. Friday the Thirteenth was coming soon. One of Holiday Man’s favorites.
© Copyright 2016 The Novelist. All rights reserved.
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