Chronicles of the Fall- #1- Empty Night

Chapter 32: Let There Be Blood

The pain that explodes in Hampton's jaw is as sharp and acute as a knife's edge. His head flies to the side, his mouth spewing spit and blood. In the milliseconds that Hampton's head is in motion, he feels an emotion like he's never felt before flood through his body.  It's anger, but more refined. It's pure, unadulterated rage.

"Bastard!" he spits, throwing his right hand out as his left windmills in the air in an attempt to gain his balance. Tripp manages to get his forearm in between his face and Hampton's arm, but Hampton's fist still grazes his temple, bringing a ringing in Tripp's head. He jerks his head away from the stray fist, and pulls on Hampton's arm, bringing him closer.

While Hampton has a considerable amount of  strength, the power behind Tripp's pull is too much and he's sent stumbling forward.

A forearm slams into Hampton's neck; his breath catches in his throat, tears spring into his eyes. Tripp's fist connects with Hampton's chest, knocking him backwards once again. He scrambles backwards as he attempts to find his feet.

'He's strong, but not strong enough,' Tripp thinks, scanning him up and down. He's right, too. Hampton is made for running, for working. Not for brawls.

Hampton remains on the ground, panting. He can feel the tightening in his chest, unsure of whether Tripp broke a rib or sent him into cardiac distress. 'Just a bruise. Just a bruise.'  Tripp advances on his downed opponent.

Hampton puts up a hand to protect himself from the coming blow. However, his long legs unfurl in a burst of power, taking out Tripp at the knees. He falls, hard, and Hampton takes this opportunity to surge forward on top of Tripp.

"Stop! Stop!" Laken cries from her spot on the sideline. She grabs her forehead with her hands, not wanting to watch but being unable to look away.

"Tripp! That's enough!" DJ barks, her hands clenching at the thought of intervening.

"What's the matter, Queen Bee? Can't get your little King under control?" Talon yells from behind the brawling boys. He steps to the side where DJ can see him.

"Sounds like we already know the fate of the kingdom then," Owen harshly jokes. His voice, unlike Talon's, is only false bravery, and is lined with fear.

"Why don't you shut the hell up? You don't know anything about what's happening right now," DJ says through gritted teeth. Tripp stumbles backwards, between them once more.

"Why don't you explain it then? I know one thing, you're a TRAITOR!" Talon yells, throwing his hands in the air.

DJ's hand tightens around her brass knuckles, the pair that Hampton returned to her heavy in her hand.

The second she moves forward to approach the boys, Owen cowers behind Talon. Talon steps up to the plate, straightening his shoulders.

"What? You're gonna beat the shit out of me? Because I disagree with you, right? Isn't that all you can do when someone doesn't agree with you?" he challenges.

DJ replies with a straight right, directly into Talon's nose. He follows immediately with several hooks to her ribs; she barely had time to shift her arms to block the last couple.

'Shit,' thinks DJ. 'He's a lot stronger than I am.' But she can't back down. She won't.

"I'm a bit stronger than Tripp, huh DJ?" Talon sneers, advancing. DJ jumps from foot to foot, lengthening the distance between them.

"Not as skilled, though," she wheezes, the skin around her ribs tightening up and bruising. DJ shifts her weight to her left foot, readying her next attack.