The gargoyles lean against the merlons and wager on the outcome. Niko’s not sure he wants to know who’s favored or the odds.
The gargoyles are becoming impatient. Before they can yell at him Niko straightens from his hurdler’s stretch and gives Pignose the nod and says Let’s dance.
“Bout time.” Leaning against the wall Pignose folds his burly arms. “No rules, boys. Come out swinging till ya can’t swings no more.”
Ramhorn mimes pulling a bell cord. “Ding ding,” he says basso profundo.
Bony walks calmly to the middle of the parapet and looks Niko in the eye and extends a hand. “No hahd feelins, mite,” he says in a thick Australian accent.
Niko takes the hand to shake and Bony yanks him in and unloads a left hook to the side of Niko’s head. Or where Niko’s head would have been if he hadn’t gone with the pull and ducked. Niko continues the motion and pushes up on Bony’s hand to raise the Aussie’s arm and glide under it and turn away from him as he does. He straightens quickly and turns the arm to lock it and bend Bony over and then comes down hard on the upturned elbow joint with his own elbow. Bony yells but the joint doesn’t break so Niko tries again. As he comes down Bony lets off a kick to Niko’s shin that glances off but doesn’t exactly tickle and then Bony jerks free.
They square off.
Bony stands a little hunched with hands up to protect his face and upper body, left shoulder leading. A boxing stance. Niko’s arm-bar has hurt Bony’s elbow but not enough. He’s probably acquired a stratospheric tolerance for pain.
Bony sees the way Niko’s sizing him up and he grins pure enjoyment. “Yer a goer then eh? Cmon then. Cmon.”
Niko waits in his stance. Bony’s a boxer, he’s Australian, and there’s something oldfashioned about him. Niko’s willing to bet he never saw martial arts in his life or since. Which means there’s a lot he won’t be expecting.
Niko assumes a boxer’s stance.
Bony nods. “That’s it mite. Now cmin eer an get slapped loyk a gull.” Bony begins to circle, still grinning as he bobs and weaves and feints and jabs. He’s out of range, just trying to intimidate. He fights flatfooted, European style. As Bony circles he begins to spiral in toward Niko, slow and subtle but the taunting jabs are getting closer. Niko hasn’t bothered to block any yet.
“Not much chance a gettin the sun in yer eyes, eh?” Bony feints and bobs right. “You look loyk ya been out in the sun ricently. Eh? That royt?”
And Niko realizes Bony hates him for his mortality.
Bony jabs again and rushes in to unload a right cross. Niko stops him cold with a sidekick to the knee. It hurts like hell because the sole of Niko’s foot is so cut up from running from the mulchosaur. He tries to follow through with a backfist to the head but Bony sidesteps and dances back. Niko’s kick had been an inch too high. Probably charliehorsed Bony’s quad pretty good but Niko doubts a charliehorse is going to send the Aussie running home to momma.
The Aussie looks surprised at the kick and perhaps as well at the way Niko moves. “So that’s how you ply, eh? Leave it to a Yank ta kick loyk a sheila.” He spits into his hands. “Bloody septics.”
On the last word Niko fakes a backfist to the head and Bony’s guard comes up. Niko leg-sweeps Bony’s front leg out from under him and Bony lands hard on his naked tailbone and Niko drives down a left punch. Bony rolls enough to take it on the shoulder and grabs Niko’s arm and pulls him down with him. Now it’s a grappling match and technique is out the window. Gouge and scratch and bite. They might as well be two cats tied together in a bag going over a waterfall. They roll around on the parapet for ten seconds before Niko gets away, bleeding from a cheek and an earlobe and from his forehead where he butted the Australian in the mouth. An eye got gouged in the fray and he’s bruised where Bony grabbed his balls and tried to pop them like grapes. His shoulder wound and the bite on his thigh have opened up again. Bony’s bleeding from the forehead and chest and lip. Left eyelid swollen and two fingers broken.
They face each other once again. Both men panting. Bony wipes his split lip with a forearm. “That’ll get the old pump wuhhkin, eh?” And he jumps in to do it again.
Niko sidesteps and roundkicks Bony in the solar plexus. He hits him with his big toe instead of the ball of his foot and goddamn if he doesn’t sprain it on the son of a bitch’s skinny chest. But at least Bony says Whuh and doubles over.
Niko dances in to finish Bony off but his bleeding feet skid on the stone. Bony mulekicks at Niko’s groin and catches the fresh bite gouge on his thigh. It feels like a branding iron. Niko yells as he falls. He rolls and comes up in a fighting stance and then the leg collapses under him. He tucks tight as Bony stumbles to him and tries to stomp him. Niko’s leg piledrives Bony’s shin.
“Oh that smaahts,” the Aussie yells. His savage grin remains.
Niko stays down. The stone is warm against his naked ass. Bony can’t get in on Niko while he’s made himself a little fortress like a turtle. But like a turtle he is roadkill if he tries to pick up and go anywhere. Stalemate.
It’s been about thirty seconds since they started in on each other. Plenty of time to cause a lot of damage in an unprotected fight. Niko now sees he’s at a serious disadvantage here. Maybe Bony was a Boy Scout Leader in his earthly life, though Niko doubts it because the son of a bitch is enjoying this way too much, but since then the Australian has experienced decades of true and utter ruthlessness. He’s lost the governors that hamper most people. He has no instinct for selfpreservation because he’s already dead. And Niko’s holding back that little bit that’s going to let the Aussie beat him.
Bony makes a third attempt to kick Niko while he’s down. Niko tries again to kick Bony’s kneecaps. The gargoyles decide things have gotten boring and it won’t improperly influence the wager to let the mortal get back up so the boys can finish up their little dance.
The moment Niko’s on his bleeding feet the Aussie goes for broke. Jab and jab then slide up jab and here comes a right with murder in its eye. Niko kicks him in the side and feels a rib break beneath his heel. Bony flies back and hits a merlon. Niko catches him on the rebound and takes him down and slams him facefirst onto the bare rock parapet and smashes his nose like a stewed tomato. The Aussie bucks once and then lies still. For a moment Niko’s sure he’s killed the man and then remembers that’s not possible. For insurance Niko folds the Aussie’s right leg until the heel is against the buttock and then sits down on the upturned instep.
“Finish it,” says Pignose from his makeshift throne of an embrasure.
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” The Australian suddenly struggles beneath him. Niko keeps pressure on the leg. “I can ’t kill him.”
“Make him say uncle.”
“Are you—” Niko frowns. He supposes one word’s just as good as the next. He glances at the man beneath him. One skinny arm is struggling feebly to find purchase. Fuck it.
“Say uncle,” Niko says.
“Oh uddy ay.”
“What’s he saying?” complains Batface.
“He says no bloody way,” says Niko.
They sit there a moment in a strange tableau. Wrestlers on a Grecian urn.
“Ood thot, ite.”
“Thanks,” says Niko. “You got me some good ones yourself.”
“Orry out ya glothes. Oodnt elp oyself.”
“Way it goes,” says Niko.
“Look, I want subtitles or something,” says Ramhorn.
“He said he’s sorry about my clothes. He couldn’t help himself.” The gargoyles laugh.
“Well isn’t that sweet,” says Ramhorn. “Maybe if you let him go you two can kiss and make up.”