War Of The Mountain Man

He’s no boxer! Max thought gleefully. Not with a stupid stance like that. Now I have him. Now I have him.

What Max got was a left fake that he brushed aside and a powerful right that barreled through and busted him flush on the mouth. He felt his lips split and the blood gush. The left that he had brushed away caught him a smashing blow on the side that hurt the big man, backing him up.

Smoke pressed in, hitting the man with a flurry of blows to the arms and shoulders as Max could do nothing but cover up until he caught his wind. And the blows were bruising.

Smoke pounded the man’s arms, hurting and bruising them, taking some of the power from them. Max finally had to lower his guard and shove Smoke from him. The move got Smoke off him for a moment, but it also earned Max a smashing blow to the head.

Max saw an opening and took it, handing Smoke a one-two combination to the head. The blows popped Smoke’s head back and bloodied his mouth. The left had caught him above the eye and opened a cut.

Smoke backed up, shook his head, and then plowed right back in, pressing the attack. He drove a right fist in that caught Max on the nose, and the big man felt the already injured nose break. The blood poured. Smoke didn’t let up. He smashed a left and right to Max’s head that rocked the big man back on his heels. Max got in a hard right that shook Smoke down to his boots, staggering him.

Max jumped at Smoke, intending to boot the man to the ground. One boot did catch Smoke on the leg, bruising the flesh but not putting him down. Smoke countered with a kick of his own that caught Max on the shin and brought a yelp of pain from the man. Smoke jumped in and blasted another left and right. The left took Max on the side of the jaw and the right hit him flush in the mouth.

Max grimly spat out part of a broken tooth and came on, both fists held high.

Smoke hit the man in the belly and took a left hook to his head for that move. Max followed the hook with a heel-drop that sent Smoke to the ground. Max tried to kick him. Smoke rolled away and came up on his boots, a hard light in his eyes.

Max had expanded the fight, moving away from ring rules with that attempted kick. If that were the way the man wanted it, so be it.

Max swung a looping right. Smoke caught the forearm and wrist and threw the man to the ground, then stepped in and gave Max a vicious kick to the kidney that brought a howl of pain from him. Smoke brought his balled fist down hard on Max’s neck just as the man was trying to get up. The blow knocked him flat on the ground. Smoke went to work with his boots, stomping and kicking. One boot caught Max flush in the mouth, and the force of the kick shattered the big man’s front teeth, top and bottom.

With a scream of rage and pain, Max flung out his hand and caught Smoke’s jeans leg, tumbling the smaller man to the ground. Smoke rolled and came up on his boots before Max could get to his feet and apply the boots to him.

For a full minute the men stood toe to toe and slugged it out, with each of them giving and receiving about the same amount of damage. But Smoke could tell the bigger man was losing some of his power. Max was fighting with his mouth open now, sucking in air in great gasping gulps. Smoke had known nothing but hard work all his life. Max had spent the last fifteen years either sitting behind a desk, planning his evil, or sitting at a poker table, cheating those who played the game of chance with him.

Smoke sent a crashing right fist through Max’s guard, a punch that knocked the big man to the ground. Smoke stepped in and kicked the man in the butt just as he was trying to get to his feet. The butt-kick knocked Max sprawling, sliding facedown in the dirt and the grass.

“You know what I’m going to do, don’t you, Max?” Smoke asked, standing over the man. Max tried to get to his feet and Smoke kicked him in the butt again, knocking the big man down to the ground.

“I’m going to rearrange your face, Max.” Smoke walked around to the front of the struggling giant of a man. “When I get tired of hitting you, I’m going to kick your face in.”

Max knew he was whipped, knew Smoke was going to stomp him into the ground. “I’ve had enough,” the big man said, blood dripping from his mouth.

“I imagine Aggie said something along those lines, didn’t she, Max?”

“She was trash! Nester trash.”

Smoke kicked him in the belly with all the power he could get behind the boot. Max’s body arched upward off the ground and he screamed in pain.

Smoke backed away and let the man struggle to his feet. Big Max stood before him, swaying slightly. “Fight, you sorry bastard,” Smoke told him.