Chapter 23:

#TheKnight - 2

Midnight King


Honey skates screech under the weight of her retreat. She gets as far as possible from the Serpent, falling all the way back to the edge of the ring.

She sends Misha a look. A quick one. Not asking for help, but more so to say ‘what the hell is wrong with this guy?’.

The Serpent appears to have so many openings, intoxicated and all, yet every time Honey tries to get close, the alcoholic dimwit makes a motion to lunge at her. From any direction. Even when she tries to attack him from behind, he bends over like he's in an exorcist movie and his mouth twists into a possessed grin.

The scrunch of her nose is telling enough that she already hates this fight. There’s a snap of her jaw every time she has to withdrawal her attack.

Honey’s getting annoyed.

Which was bad news.

Misha’s makeshift training regiment, involving toy hammers and water guns and wads of balled-up papers, seems to have helped. None of the Serpent’s moves catch her off guard and she nimbly avoids any grabs he tries to make.

But she’s becoming impatient.

Her defensive strategies grow more and more loose and unprotected.

The Serpent’s able to seize her once, by the arms.

She held them up to block, the movement of his body suggested he’d throw a punch or some kind of jab, however it changed split second. Now, the half-empty bottle still clasped in his fingers, he’s got his meaty hands attached to her forearms.

Almost like a stunted embrace.

“First girl I had to fight! How about we get to know each other a little better first?” He smirks, lips exposing his canines like he’s provoking her.

And he does start to look more like a beast, once perfectly combed hair now falling sloppily over his face and gashes appear along the seams of his shirt (the stiff looking button-down unable to stretch with his chaotic movements).

He’s bending over Honey, using his height to his advantage, wrestling her into a reluctant hold that she can’t seem to shake. The muscles in his back and shoulders are visible through his oversize shirt.

The Serpent is no novice fighter, not even a simple street fighter.

He’s a professional. Trained and experienced.

Not that it matters to Honey, of course, she sees no difference in size or strength. Although he’s nearly forcing her to her knees, pushing down on her arms, and lowering her to the floor, Misha knows all Honey sees when she looks at him is Charlotte’s head on a spike.

He's nothing but a step for her staircase of revenge.

She grasps his sleeves.

“Know you better?” Honey scoffs coldly, “Like you’re even worth knowing.”

She spins on her skates, tangling the Serpent’s arms until she’s in prime position to flip him onto his back. She leans forward to throw him over her shoulder. His feet are almost off the ground, but before he’s slammed to the floor, he simply just sits.

And he pulls her back with him.

The sudden displacement of his weight makes her slip. Her skates sliding out from under her as they drop down together, ground smashing into her tailbone hard enough to make her scowl stutter in a wince.

He still has her limbs in his clutches, sitting right behind Honey and almost choking her with her own arms. The Serpent pulls on her wrists and she gasps to take a breath.

“Not worth knowing, you say? Not even now?”

Her face hardens.

With an abrupt jerk of her body, backward right into his unprotected nose, her shoulder blades collide with his face and he lets go just enough for her to escape. And she doesn’t miss a beat, getting back onto her wheels and slinking back onto the defensive.

There’s a tug on Misha’s sleeve.

Elias’ hand has found its way onto Misha’s sweater, a fist around the cloth while he watches Honey mess with the fringe above her grimace.

Misha puts a hand over Elias’ and squeezes.

Honey won’t lose to this drunkard.

The Serpent laughs. A full, giggling chortle that sounds like it comes deep from his belly. It’s almost completely humorless except for the smile slicing through his cheek.

His nose is profusely bleeding, but he carelessly swipes at his nostrils with one hand. Effectively smearing blood all over his face and making it that much worse. Misha can’t even remember what he looked like just minutes before. Wireframe glasses and a look that made you feel like you were always doing something wrong.

“Feisty one aren’t ya?” He takes another drink from his bottle, more of it falls out of his mouth than down his throat.

Honey snorts, shifting her weight onto her hip and fixing her ponytail. Pulling it tight.

She’s hesitating.

Honey’s not just playing with her hair just because she wants to flaunt her curls, she’s staying at this safe distance to decide her next move. She doesn’t usually think before she advances, it’s always do now, worry later whenever she fights.

Her attacks are usually bold, fearless, and certain. However, right now, she doesn’t hold the same confidence, staying back instead of charging at her opponent with reckless abandon.

“Don’t be scared, come here. I don’t bite.” He beckons her with a lethargic wave of his hand.

He begins to sway so far to the right, his body comes close to collapsing, possibly knocking himself out before Honey decided to make a move. For just a second, Misha thinks Honey could win this round without having to shed any more blood. The Serpent might pass out on his own.

Then he stumbles. And breaks into a run.

Honey readies a knee to aim for his stomach, which would’ve been the perfect hit to ground him and potentially keep him there.

It should have been the perfect hit.

She does get him right in the abdomen, his back arches around the impact of the blow, but instead of staggering away like he should have, the Serpent grabs onto her knee.

Tightly.

There isn’t a trace of pain or even a slight wince in his expression, the alcohol seems to have dulled his nerves enough to ignore whatever damage Honey’s attack just cost him. Instead, his expression shows nothing but enjoyment, like he’s having the time of his life rather than getting beat up in an abandoned warehouse.

Untamed. Misha would call that perverse face of his untamed because of how much it looks like a wild animal.

Honey’s leg is stuck under his arm. She struggles to free herself but she’s trapped against him, too close to be comfortable, but if she doesn’t hold onto his shoulders her skates would slip out from under again.

He looks ready to say something awful. With one swing of her elbow, she shuts him up.

But he doesn’t let go.

The Serpent’s other arm hooks around her torso, right underneath the elbow she just threw, locking her shoulder above her head. Now she’s in a difficult position, standing on one unsteady leg, one arm stuck in mid-strike, and the other arm desperately keeping her from losing her balance altogether.

Honey looks like she's being strangled by a snake. One that’s trying to crush the life out of her. One that wants to devour her whole. One that won’t let go of her no matter how hard she wrestles to get out of his grip.

This is the Drunken Serpent.

The Knight of The Midnight Fights.

Honey tries to get another elbow in, desperate to dislodge from this constriction, but to no avail. The way he’s wrapped around her makes it tough to get an angle on him.

Her skate does slip again.

Those wheels seem to have a grudge against her today.

The Serpent takes the chance to lift her up off the ground. Both Honey’s legs leave the floor. She thrashes desperately, trying to get out of his hold, but his arms around her tighten the more she moves.

Honey makes a strangled noise.

In one quick swoop of the Serpent’s arms, he hoists her up almost effortlessly and slams her onto the ground. Right on top of the broken glass.

Elias cries out, Misha feels his voice catch in his throat. Both of them drowned out by the cheering crowd.

For a moment her face is completely blank.

Then, slowly, she registers the growing pain in her back.

Her face contorts in agony.

Misha has never seen her make that expression. Twisted in pain. Jaws tight enough to crack her teeth. Eyes clamped shut as she holds back a scream. Something almost unreadable with a mix of emotions that seem to berate every muscle in her face. Even after facing so many other students, she’d never once let herself show a sign of weakness.

She doubles over. But not quite fast enough to protect her face.

The Serpent has her pinned. And his fists are unforgiving.

Misha feels every punch chip away at his sanity. 

Misha doesn’t want to watch this anymore.

He doesn’t want to do this anymore.

His fault. This was his fault again. He made the wrong decision again. Using her to get back at The Midnight Fights when he was the one should’ve done it himself, but he’s too much of a coward to risk it all a second time.

And does that mean he’s sacrificing Honey to the games?

That she’ll risk it all while he watches safely on the sidelines?

What has he done? 

Misha has been an idiot. He’s been a terrible friend. He’s been so caught up with his own vendetta against The Midnight Fights that he’s as blind as Honey is with Charlotte. Insistent in achieving his revenge at the cost of others. He did this twice now. 

How many lives did he have to destroy to learn that he had lost his own humanity to The Midnight Fights too. That he's just as bad as all these violence-obsessed freaks rooting for students to almost kill each other in a game that meant absolutely nothing. 

This wasn’t helping her. This was ruining her.

He forgets she’s just a girl.

No, Honey's not just a girl to him anymore.

She’s a friend.

And Misha’s been an awful one.

He tries to pull forward in the crowd, pushing other spectators aside to get to the ring’s edge, drawing attention to himself although that is the very last thing he'd want to do. One particularly peeved spectator shoves him back, but Misha doesn’t budge.

Then the Serpent says something he really shouldn’t have said.

It becomes his death wish.

“You know,” He had stopped his relentless abuse just for a second to lift her head up by her golden fringe, revealing her forehead like an exhibited display. 

“You’d have the perfect little face without this scar here, what is this? Burn yourself on your first cigarette?”

The Serpent seals his fate with a dark chuckle.

Misha had seen that scar before, hidden meticulously most of the time, sometimes heavily touched up with makeup or covered completely by her bangs. But like a permanent mark, it was visible no matter what she did.

Never once did she talk about it. Never once did she forget to cover it. Never once did she show it to anyone willingly.

It all happens in an instant.

One arm breaks free. Ripped out of the Serpent’s hold by sheer strength alone. Scraping through glass shards, bleeding on its ascent. Honey doesn’t waste a single second to swing her fist into the unprotected temple of her oppressor.

It makes an explosive sound. Like a firework shot into a silent night sky. Defending on impact. 

His body is thrown aside with the momentum of her blow. She’s on her feet faster than he can fall, but this time she doesn’t retreat. Or back up. Or hesitate.

And she’s shaking, but not from fear. It’s from anger.

Bloody, reddening, bruised, her face still looks modelesque, the only thing staining that beauty is the scowl pulling all her features taut together, lip curling like she’s about to growl. A look so furious that the crowd behind the Serpent takes a full step back to escape some of her bloodlust, but their distance does nothing to ease the intensity of her glare.

Eyes that pierce right through the drunken teen hold so much wrath, Honey could’ve shared some for the entire warehouse with extra to spare.

She’s exhaling smoke that burns deep somewhere in the pit of her stomach like a stone oven, releasing embers and ashes into the air until everyone around her becomes high with it.

They encourage her ire. Praising her violence. Bringing out the worst in her for their sick entertainment.

Her back is stained with blood. 

Honey’s voice drops low. Like the time she spoke to Charlotte, deep and raw and scratching.

And terrifying. 

“Your face would look perfect with a few more scars.”

The crowd cheered when she broke free, slapping their calloused hands together in applause like they were watching a dogfight and not two teens trying to hospitalize each other for a number in a hierarchy. 

The Serpent sneers, grin still plastered on his face although he tenderly feels the area where Honey had hit him. It wasn’t her hardest hit, not by far, but it probably rattled his skull enough to stun him.

Or maybe it shook up his brain a little more than expected because his next action made Misha’s heart stall in his chest.

He forgets to breathe.

The Drunken Serpent takes his empty beer bottle and smashes it against the ground.

The end is pointed. It is sharp and deadly. 

“Oh? Don’t like it when someone insults your looks?” 

The Serpent studies his newfound weapon with an ugly curiosity and if his smile could get any wider it does. Cutting across his face like it was carved there with a dull knife.

His eyes flicker to Honey. Amused. “Maybe that’s because it’s all you have.”

Honey charges.

She’s skating towards him. Towards his makeshift weapon. Towards danger she wouldn't come back from. If the Serpent manages to catch her off guard, Honey will bleed out. Stomach ripped open. Insides spilling out. Covered in nothing but red.

She rushes forward headfirst without thinking. Reckless. Like always.

It's then, it all becomes very real. Honey could get stabbed today. Honey could die today.

Misha doesn’t think he has it in him to carry another unconscious body to the ER.

Again.

It’s just a loop of the worst moments of his life happening again and it’s always his fault.

And Elias can’t fight anymore because of him.

And Honey might turn out the same because of him.

And his dad died because of him.

“Stop! No more, please!” Elias scrambles to get into the circle, always faster than Misha, always willing to intervene without hesitation. Some spectators try to hold him back, to keep him from ruining their disgusting bloody show, but Misha’s knuckles persuade them to stop before they even touch Elias.

It's too late.

Honey’s already past the point of no return.

She won’t back down.

The Serpent sways. Then he lunges.

“Honey!” Elias yells.

Honey’s snarl distorts.

Fast and efficient, she takes the hand holding the broken bottle and spins on her skates until the Serpent’s arm is twisted in her grasp. The bottle easily drops out of his grip, but it doesn’t stop him from tackling Honey back onto the floor.

She’s again slammed into the concrete, shoulder blades first, while he tries to wrap around her flailing limbs. 

Grounding her for a second time.

Misha doesn’t know what she was thinking, it’s the same scenario as before and she’s completely pinned underneath him again. Without escape and without a chance of winning. 

No. 

Misha won’t let it happen, even if he has to fight every bastard in this establishment, he won’t watch Honey succumb to fists and be beaten to a bloody pulp. He won’t lose anything this time. He won’t lose anyone if he just gets to her in time.

His foot steps into the ring.

But the Serpent lets go of Honey before Misha can get any closer.

Suddenly the drunken teenager slumps against her. Body turning limp like the vigor and brutality from moments ago had left his nerves all at once. He’s struggling to keep himself upright although he’s still in a position of power, hunched over her like she’s his prey.

Blood drips onto the floor between them.

It soaks into the front of Honey’s shirt.

But it doesn’t belong to her.

She throws the Serpent off her and he rolls weakly onto his shoulder. Misha feels the color drain from his face. He doesn’t take a step forward. He doesn’t move at all.

The broken bottle the Serpent had been carrying now protrudes from his side.

He laughs and laughs, but his shirt slowly turns a vibrant red, spreading faster the more his body shakes with the unrestrained laughter. It’s the only sound in the cavernous warehouse, echoing like a cacophony of voices coming from one person alone.

Then the noise harmonizes with a raucous chorus.

Cheers and claps and hollers and sounds that remind Misha of the chaos inside a wild jungle, where creatures consume each other’s flesh raw and still alive erupt from the vile spectators. 

A chant starts from somewhere in the herd.

“Finish him!” It says.

“Finish him!” They join until it is a resounding choir of a unanimous choice.

Misha’s eyes turn back to Honey. Elias rips his arm out of another student’s grasp. They both watch her desperately, trying to stop her with just a single gaze. Telling her to step away. She's already won. 

She doesn’t even look at them.

Her foot collides with the Serpent’s face. Shutting him up completely.

Misha had really made a mistake.

A grave mistake.

In his endeavor to end The Midnight Fights, he helped create its perfect successor.

A monster named hunnie.bunnie143. 

Shattered_Hope
icon-reaction-1
otkrlj
icon-reaction-1
Gurg
icon-reaction-2
Nellien
icon-reaction-1
senkogann
icon-reaction-1
kazesenken
icon-reaction-1
OscarHM
icon-reaction-1
Pearlyn.M
icon-reaction-5
OtakuMaster
icon-reaction-1