Jhun Thai O: The Fall Of Thomas Brady

Jhun Thai 0 Chapter 11

Thomas headed through the Queens Theatre still dressed in his blue kicking pants, his hands still bandaged up. He attracted a lot of glances from the staff of the venue, especially when he made his way through the foyer. He found his trainer Douglas in the foyer, talking with some people in dark suits. When Douglas saw Thomas, he went up to him.
"Hey Thomas, are you okay?" he asked him.
"Never felt better," was Thomas's reply. He carried on walking until he was out onto the sidewalk. There were numerous taxis parked by the sidewalk. Thomas went up to one of them and the driver, seeing him approaching, wound the window down to speak. He was a short Asian man in his late fifties with greyish receding hair and a lined face. Thomas knew the driver because he had been in his taxi before a few times in the past.
"You want to go somewhere?" he asked, looking suspiciously at Thomas.
Thomas did not answer. He just reached into the cab, grabbed the short asian man by the scruff of his neck and forcefully pulled him out of the vehicle, tossing him to the pavement much to the shock and surprise of the people watching. Wasting no time, he reached into the car and pulled the latch on the drivers door, unlocking it before stepping into the car. Before Douglas and anyone else could stop him, he drove the taxi off through the four way traffic lights and down Waterloo Road towards Hanley.
He reached the nightclub, Stomp in less than ten minutes and parked the taxi across the road, noticing the crowds of people that had gathered outside and were queing to get in. At least four bouncers, all dressed in dark suits and long coats stood outside, seeing to each person in turn. They were clean shaven and looked like proper fighters, but nothing that Thomas could handle. He knew that Portland and Tudor were inside, and so was his belt that he knew belonged to him.
He walked across the road towards the nightclub, many of the queing clubbers looking at him with amusement, surprise and shock. The four bouncers looked up at him. One of them, who had a board, gave it to one of the queing clubbers and folded his arms as Thomas went up to them.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" said one of them, a bulky man, coming out to confront Thomas. "You think you are going in here dressed like that you got one thing coming".
"It's that kickboxing guy, Thomas Brady," shouted one of the clubbers.
"Shit, Jon Portland and Mark Tudor are inside, you think there's going to be a fight?" said another clubber.
The rest of the bouncers, upon hearing this, went out to confront Thomas.
"You ain't going nowhere," said one of the other bouncers. "Now turn back the way you came. We don't want any trouble sonny".
Thomas grinned, and then without warning, he erupted into action, kicking the nearest bouncer in the midriff and then charging at the second one, ramming into him like a ten ton locomotive. With amazing strength, he lifted the doorman off the ground and ran him hard towards a nearby parked car, shoving him into the side, the force, shattering glass. As he stepped back, Thomas felt two hands grab him from behind, lift him from the floor and toss him back onto the road. It was the third bouncer, and both he and the three others had ganged on him, punching and kicking him. Thomas managed to block most of their incoming blows, but could feel the power and hardness of their punches and kicks. He kicked one hard in the face with a round kick and punched the other and tossing the third one to the ground before twisting his assailants hand and breaking two of his fingers in the process. His attacker screamed out in pain.
He was again knocked back by a combination of furious punches from two of the bouncers, but he retaliated with his aresenal of kicks and punches. He elbowed one in the face and then head butted the other, breaking the mans nose. Thomas did not even realise how badly cut and bruised he was. The four bouncers were tough and experienced fighters, but so was Thomas and he all four of them with a strength he never knew he had. Eventually he managed to get the better of all four of them, knocking the last assailant through the double glass doors of the Stomp nightclub, much to the shock and horror of the bystanders watching.
Lock and loaded for action, and looking like he was ready to kill anyone that got in his way, Thomas stepped through the broken glass door and stepping over the injured form of the bouncer. He looked across the large dance floor, noticing that the music had stopped and all the people inside, even the waiters and bar staff were now looking at him. In the distance he heard police sirens, realising someone had called the police. But he did not care. He wanted to find Portland and Tudor and make those two pay for the pain that had been brought on him.
It was not difficult finding him in the nightclub, and walking across the dance floor he approached a large table in the corner where sat two men in shirts and jeans, flanked by a load of women. They looked surprised when they saw Thomas approach and most of the clubbers stepped out of the way, nobody daring to even challenge Thomas.
The belt that Thomas once wore was on the table as was Tudors own belt. They had been showing it off to their female companions.
"Well, well, look who the cat dragged in," sneered Tudor. He shook his head in disbelief as Thomas stopped a few feet away from their table, his fists clenched, his eye's glacial and cold like he was ready to kill both of them in an instant. "Sheesh, I always thought you were stupid Thomas, but I never figured you were this dum. Nice work with the bouncers Mr Tough Guy. You think you can just come waltzing in here like some gunslinger with something to prove?"
"This isn't the wild west shithead," Portland said in a strong London accent. "I beat you in the ring fair and square. Now just give it up and go home like a nice little boy".
Thomas pointed at the belt by Portlands side. "I want my belt back," he simply said to him. "And I'm going to kick your ass as well". He pointed at Tudor. "And when Im done with Portland, you're next".
Portland snarled at this and banged his fists on the table, rising up like some Leviathan coming up from the depths of the sea. All the woman surrounding the table took a step back as Portland went up to Thomas. "You want a street fight shithead? Is that what you want?" he said, clenching his fists. "You arrogant little shit. I'll fuck you up real good".
"Go for it," was Thomas's reply.
Without warning, Portland ran at Thomas like a raging bull. He took several swings at Thomas, who covered himself up, absorbing Portlands incoming blows. He backed himself to a table and almost instantly he made a grab for a bottle and smashed it over Portlands head, cutting the big man across his face. He grabbed another bottle and smashed it across the side of Portlands head, glass shards flying everywhere. Porltand screamed out in pain and staggered back. Seizing the opportunity, Thomas executed a devastating round kick to Portlands stomach, kicking the big man so hard that it made him convulse forwards, exposing his head and presenting Thomas with a clear shot. With a powerful uppercut, Thomas caught Portland on the chin, snapping the mans head back and almost breaking his neck in the process. Like a sack of potatos, Portland fell to the floor, stunned.
Grabbing him by his collar, Thomas proceeded to pummel Porltands face, putting so much of his anger and fury behind each blow. His rage was so great that for a moment, he did not realise how much damage he was inflicting on Portland. Portland's nose exploded and his face was bloodied and beaten. He would have died on the spot if Mark Tudor, the British Kickboxing champion had not stepped in. He rushed at Thomas, attacking him with a combination of kicks and punches, forcing Thomas onto the dance floor.
Thomas was knocked backwards by the fury of Tudors attack and he saw Tudor removing his shirt, revealing an extremely muscular torso, the result of many hours in the gym.
Thomas grinned at this through his bruised and bloodied face. "That's more like it," he said through his gritted teeth. He noticed the overhead disco lights flashing different colours and the many people who had been on the dance floor clearing it quickly, knowing only too well what was about to occur.
"You brought this on yourself!" shouted Tudor, readying himself for combat. "No matter what the outcome Thomas, there is only one loser here and its you!"
Thomas clenched his fists hard and readied himself for a fight that he had wanted all along. The chance to fight Tudor and see who was the strongest. But this was not a fight in the ring and there were no rules. This was going to be a fight to the finish and Thomas was determined to destroy Tudor. It was no longer a case of who was the better fighter in the ring. It had gone way beyond that point now. This was about who was the better and stronger man and this fight would prove it to Thomas. He was going to take all the pain, fury and anger and direct them on Tudor and make him sorry he ever insulted him.
Even now as he squared off against the British Kickboxing champion he could feel something inside him driving him on, taking all the anger, pain and frustrating and turning it into the kind of energy that would give power to his punches and kicks. He could hear a voice in his head spurring him on, telling him that he had to keep fighting until Tudor was no more. For the first time, he did no care about the title or his reputation. Destroying Tudor was the only thing on his mind right now and he was prepared to go to any lengths to do so.
For a while the two combatants circled each other, the crowds watching on, knowing only too well the violence that was about to occur, and then it erupted, both combatants charging at one another in an explosion of fist, feet and fury. Tudor came in with long circular punches and kicks, Thomas going for the lower body of Tudor with bone crunching body shots. With a powerful knee to the face, Tudor sent Thomas reeling backwards, blood spraying everywhere. He charged at Thomas like a raging bull and grabbed him by his waist, lifting Thomas up and slamming him into a nearby glass table. Glass exploded, shards flying everywhere. Tudor was on top of Thomas, raining punches down on Thomas head. Thomas immediatly covered up, his hands and elbows absorbing most of Tudors incoming blows. He wrestled with Tudor, but eaa surprised to find how skilful Tudor was at grappling. In the space of a few seconds he had put Thomas in a chokehold from behind and was applying the pressure to cut off his breathing. Desparately, Thomas pushed himself backwards and the two of them fell into another glass table, the glass shattering everywhere. This was enough for Thomas to escape the chokehold from Tudor, and reaching for a bottle, he swung it wildly at Tudor, determined to crack his head open, wanting blood from him.
Tudor blocked the blow with his elbow and the bottle shattered, spraying liquid and glass everywhere.
Snarling in frustration, Thomas followed up his attack with a series of punches, forcing Tudor back to the bar area. Tudor was knocked back by a kick from Thomas in his solar plexus which made him double over. Picking up a chair, Tudor swung it at Thomas, who avoided it by leaping out of range. He came steaming back with an uppercut that caught Tudor on the chin causing him to drop the chair and sending him staggering backwards against the bar. Grabbing hold of Tudors head, Thomas slammed it hard against the shiny oak wood of the bar with bone crunching force. He then ran it across the whole length of the bar, causing Tudor to crash into all the glasses and bottles that lay strewn across its surface. He was thrown non-too-gently to the floor, his head spinning, his senses, disorientated.
Picking him up off the floor, Thomas proceeded to pummel him in the stomach, chest and chin, each blow striking Tudor with bone crunching force. Tudor was now cut in two places across his face, and blood was flowing everywhere. But he was not finished yet.
He caught Thomas unawares with a powerful head butt, that stunned Thomas and grabbing hold of Thomas from behind, he lifted Thomas off the floor, throwing his entire body and that of Thomas's backwards in the process. Thomas was sent crashing onto another glass table, the impact clearly knocking the wind straight out of both fighters. For a while they both lay there, neither barely moving. There was hushed whispers from the crowd as both of them groaned out in pain. Tudor was the first to try and get to his feet, and then Thomas, rising slowly, a few glass shards embedded in his back.
Thomas felt his whole world spinning, the bright lights of the nightclub almost like a blur. He forced himself to move, calling on every last ounce of power he had in his body. He felt his legs buckling slightly as he pulled himself back on his feet. Tudor was already on his feet and he sent Thomas flying into a sofa with a drop kick. He felt the wind leave his chest again as both Tudors feet struck Thomas's chest and Thomas fell like a sack of potatoes. He screamed out in frustration as he struggled to get himself to the floor. It was at this point that he heard someone call his name out, a familiar voice in the crowd, one that was filled with upset and concern. It was Travis.
Picking himself up, he looked around him at the sea of faces staring back at him, looking for Tudor.
"You had enough yet?" said a grated, out of breath voice. It was Tudor.
Spinning round, Thomas found him standing before him, battered and bruised, but still up and fighting. He took a swing at Tudor who blocked it and countered with two of his own punches, knocking Thomas back. Thomas was struck again by several blows and slowly he felt himself losing conciousness. He was losing to Tudor who appeared to be physically besting him in this fight. Slowly Thomas's world began to grow dark, the lights of the night club dimmering as he slipped into a drunken state.
He fell to his knee's, coughing and spitting blood, his body feeling like it was no longer hurting. He could no longer hear the shouts and cries of the crowd or that of his own brother. Everything around him appeared to be going silent. Then he saw something in the crowd, a face that clearly surprised him. It was standing out from the crowds of gathering people, looking down at Thomas. It was a tall man, dressed in a dark suit, with long and black gelled hair, tied into pigtail at the back. His skin was slightly olive and tanned and it surprised Thomas to see that the person he was staring up at was himself.
The figure came up to him and knelt down at Thomas's fallen form, a wicked grin on his face. "What you doing Thomas?" the dark suited double said to him. "You want to lie in the dirt and get kicked like a dog? Or do you want to get up, stand up and kick like a man?"
Thomas blinked once and the figure that he a moment ago was no longer there, but he heard the voice deep inside his mind.
"Whatcha waiting for Thomas?" it said to him. "Now get up!"
The voice echoed and shot through Thomas like electricity, jolting him instantly back to life. The cobwebs in his mind were suddenly clear and he felt alert and awake, and he felt a hand grab a clump of his hair. He felt himself lifted up to his feet and saw Tudor holding him suspended with his left hand, his other fist locked as if ready to deliver the coup de grace. But Thomas was ready for him. He shot out his right hand, grabbing Tudor by the throat, gripping the clump of flesh that was around it and squeezing tightly. Tudors eye's widened in shock and surprise, and he was forced to let go.
With new power and energy, Thomas proceeded to strike Tudor several times in the face with his left hand before sending him staggering backwards against the bar with a bone crunching elbow to his face. Tudor swung back with several punches of his own, striking Thomas a few times, but Thomas was now ready for Tudor, and he absorbed the blows, delivering several of his own, his punches stinging Tudor in the stomach, chest and face. He was sent reeling back by a round kick from Thomas, that struck Tudor at the right side of his face, sending a spray of blood spurting out from his mouth. Grabbing a half drunk pint of ale, he smashed it across Tudors face, the liquid spraying everywhere, covering both fighters. He grabbed another glass, striking Tudor again against the other side of his face and causing Tudor to stagger backwards, clearly not knowing where he was. Spinning his body round 360 degree's, Thomas lashed his foot out in a circular motion, the ball of his foot slamming across Tudors face, the force spinning Tudors body out of control, causing blood from his cuts, and sweat from his hair to fly everywhere. Thomas struck him again with the same move and this time, Tudor fell to the floor like a statue toppling to the ground, it's foundations destroyed.
Thomas looked down at Tudor who was not moving. He had been knocked cleanly out and Thomas knew he had physically bested him, but Tudors words clearly began to echo in Thomas's mind...
No matter what the outcome Thomas, there is only one loser here and it's you!
Feeling his rage get the better of him, Thomas knelt down over Tudor and got hold of him by his head, wrapping both his arms round Tudors neck, determined to choke the very last breath out of him. He heard Tudor grunt and then choke as Thomas began to apply the pressure on him. Thomas could feel Tudors very life slipping from him and he felt powerful knowing that he had power to extinguish Tudors very life. He squeezed harder with his arms, not feeling anything but twisted joy at Tudors helpless situation.
"Thomas no!" cried a voice.
He heard running feet and turned to see his brother racing towards him. He grabbed Thomas and tried to pull him away from Tudor.
"Stop Thomas, please!" Travis cried out. "You're killing him!"
Travis looked desparately around him at the crowds, his eye's begging and pleading. "Someone help!" he shouted. "He's killing him!"
His pleas were answered when three guys and two women came out from the crowd and helped Travis pull Thomas away, who began struggling when he realised he was being wrestled from Tudor. He started lashing out with hands and feet, becoming aggressive. To Travis, it was clear that Thomas was losing his mind.
"Thomas stop! Stop it now!" Travis said to him, holding Thomas's face in his hands. "It's me Thomas! It's your brother! It's me Thomas, Travis!"
Thomas blinked once and stopped struggling. He was staring hard into his brothers eye's, the realisation of what he had just done finally falling upon him. In shock and disbelief, Thomas fell back to the floor, tears suddenly welling up in his eye's.
"Oh god," he said, as Travis and the others let him go. "Oh god," he said again, covering his face in shame and horror. "What have I done!"
Tudor was not moving and several people went up to him to examine him. It was only at this point that the sirens were heard much clearer, and Thomas knew the police had come. He knew all too well that he alone was responsible for all the destruction he had caused all because of his inflated ego that had driven him to the state of madness. He wondered if Tudor was alive or whether he had gone too far and killed him outright. Then his own life was over as far as he knew.
Murder of another meant life imprisonment and Thomas did not relish the idea of going to jail, but he alone had brought this on himself.
The words of Tudor kept playing in his mind over and over again, as uniformed officers came rushing in.
No matter what the outcome Thomas, there is only one loser here and it's you!