The Disharmony Effect |Book II|

1|. NOAH: Tick, Tick, Tick, Boom ||pt.1||

"Rea-per! Rea-per! Rea-per!"

Mopping up a line of fresh blood from my nose, my fists don't break formation as I stiffen my stance and watch for the slightest bit of movement to tell me where my bald and pale-faced opponent was headed to next.

"It's the third round, Grim! Stop playing with your food and kill this guy already!" Theo hollers along with the other bloodthirsty spectators, and in trying to concentrate; I drown them out.

All but the one voice that's been boiling in my head for hours.

...What are we doing? Why are we suddenly going backward?...

I duck to dodge an oncoming left hook and trailing right uppercut.

...Even though you're good at what you do, you despise it and instead, long for the boring life of a mechanic, right?...

Rounding to the right side, my jab gets blocked as the look of betrayal in Bobbi's eye haunts my senses.

...You promised me...

"Grim, get out of the way!"

And as a heavy fist instantly cracks across my cheekbone from being too distracted by the memory, the impact of it throws me into a corner of the ring where I'm immediately pounded on by the ox of a guy I was fighting.

"Reaper, move!" Roman hisses from the sideline but I kept my forearms vertical; partly preventing the majority of his blows while waiting for a pause in his step.

"Get outta the corner!" Theo calls.

However, as I'm tucked over to avoid my stomach turning into jello; trying to tunnel out of my brain as well as the hole I was in prove to be nearly impossible.

...You always have a choice!...

"Fuck!" A sharp line slips past my sides; drawing a pained groan from my lips and my undivided attention when I whip an elbow past the nostrils of my competitor; stumbling him back.

"Aah, shit!" He cries and brings fingers to the bridge of his nose through dribbles of blood. "Fuck Reaper."

Putting a hand to the lower-left region of my abdomen, a smear of red appears on my palm; loading me with more anger as I switch my glare to the guy across from me and the shine of silver clutched in his fist.

A pocket knife.

"Bastard." Fists drawn, I steer towards him; blatantly ignoring the sting in my torso.

"Come at me, Reaper!"

In a second, his foot slides to the left before he shuffles to the right; completing the same footwork I'd seen him do earlier.

 "Ha!" He counters, and when his leg rounds to the side to aim for my ribs as I expected, instead of moving I express a slow exhale and lean into it.

"Now kill him, Keebler!"

"Reaper! Get the fuck out of the way!"

Catching my foe's leg mid-swing, I lock my arm around his calf; absorbing the blow while at the same time stopping it from completing which only knocks a grunt from my lips without a drop in my hold.

"Hey, get off!"

Tightening my hold around Keebler, I push forward; forcing him to fall onto his back where the crowd around us goes into an uproar.

"Blood! Blood! Blood! Blood!"

Agreeing with the masses, I tower over him with the handle of his blade suddenly glued to my palm; taunting me to give fans the bloody moment they desire.