The Mysterious Demon

-Dominic-

“What the fuck did you mean by ‘The Mysterious Demon is dead’?”

His voice. It was so devoid of any emotion yet stern that it was as if if I said anything that could push it-, “I didn’t mean anything-”

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME DOMINIC!”

He would snap.

I was looking right into his eyes, eyes that held the look of a tiger. It was searching for something to satisfy its angry hunger. It was that look that made my body straighten up, shoulders back and I held my head higher. Whatever I may be, I am not prey. I did not fear anyone. I had too much pride.

He seemed to notice this as well.

He detached his hand from my shoulder and his eyes softened down. It was no longer sharp and instead held guilt but that also wasn’t the emotion I wanted from him.

“I quit street fighting, Nick,” I stated, my voice sturdy. I refused to be weak in front of yet another person.

He seemed taken back, confusion written all over his face. “But how? Why? You used to refuse giving up street fighting no matter what. It was your life! It meant everything to you!” I sucked in a breath because… he was right. He was right and that hurt the most. “Are you really okay with that?” He then asked after a pause, he seemed to be in disbelief, his voice made it so clear.

I looked up at the ceiling, lights being too bright so I closed my eyes but that just made me focus on the pain even more. I didn’t want to admit it but I also didn’t want to lie to my brother. It will make things harder but I had to say, “No.” It was whispered but that had been enough.

I could hear him stepping forward towards me but I decided that whatever he’d hit me with, I’d deserve it. The trouble I put him in back then, my stubbornness and the fact that I kept it from him and had planned to keep this from him for longer. I felt him grab a hold of my shirt’s collar so I tensed slightly to get ready for any impact but instead I was pulled into his chest aggressively.

“I told myself I’d never hurt my sister ever again.” I heard him whisper and those words, his hug, were what made all my muscles instantly soften.

“Nick..”

My voice wavered but I knew that I had to tell him. I had to tell him what happened.

—

It was three years ago, three years after I was released from prison and I was fighting in the bar, habits unchanged. Xavier had retired already, tired of fighting and holding the bar’s financial status on his back while I wasn’t there, tired in general.

I was back on my stage, going as strong as I ever was. People were loving their Queen and even though opponents were strong, I would always get up again. I would always be able to fight and win.

That was until he arrived. He had named himself ‘King’. Obviously in an attempt to gain attention and challenge me. I don’t know where he came from but apparently, he had beaten the other top-five fighters and was after my title as the first.

It was the face-offs when we were finally able to fight each other. After months of hearing about the guy, I was genuinely excited for the fight so I made sure I got to the finals and so did he. The crowd was just as or perhaps even more excited at this pairing. I mean, who wouldn’t be? The title of this fight was ‘The Queen vs The King’. A fight that was going to be written in history forever.

He was the worst type of person though. He looked at me with his arrogant grin. He insulted me to all extents. “You’re probably going to be my least favourite opponent just because I’ve seen guys better looking.” “Are you sure they don’t just let you win?” “Make sure you don’t cry when your face is under my foot.” “Bet you suck the cock of this place’s owner just to be here.”

It would make my blood boil but I kept calm, calculative. I’d fight as I always did. I’d wait for his first move, I’d block and hold him in a position that allowed me to get the advantage, twist his arm. I’d punch him or kick him repeatedly, flip him and carry on. I’d go on until he freed himself but that’s when things would suddenly turn in a different direction.

He had techniques, holds, that I had never seen before. I’d get held down, beat up. However, if that were the only thing then maybe I’d still be optimistic. No. I didn’t know how he did it, what tool he was using but there were times in between the fight where I’d get slashed. Sliced at. They weren’t huge cuts but I would bleed nonetheless. My waist, where my hoodie had covered my body the most was where he targetted.

It was the distraction of it that kept me down. The more I stayed down, the more I’d get beat up and it wasn’t as if he was physically weak either. He was just as huge as Xavier was, possibly a little bigger and he was as fast as me. His punch partially dislocated my jaw. Multiple ribs were broken.

I remember as I laid there in the middle of the ring near the end, in a position I had never been so entrapped in. I was punched in the face and it was as if the whole crowd could feel it because they quietened down instantly.

I was punched a second time. The room had never been so silent with so many people there.

A third came down and that was when I heard a final crack but it was nothing internal.

It was my mask that was broken. My identity was exposed.

The commentator didn’t even have to say a word but everyone knew,

I was defeated.

The King raised from above me, grabbing my broken mask. I had tried to reach for it but he stepped on my arm, stopping me from doing so and fracturing my forearm.

He lifted the mask in the air and with the loudest voice he could possibly conjure he shouted,

“I HAVE KILLED YOUR FUCKING QUEEN! YOU WILL BOW DOWN TO ME FROM NOW ON! I AM YOUR KING. UNDERSTAND YOU FUCKERS?!” He then spat down at my face before continuing, “TRY CHALLENGING ME AND I’LL FUCK YOU UNTIL YOU CRY LIKE A FUCKING GIRL!”

The anger I had. The pain. The humiliation.

Apparently, Xavier who had been watching the whole thing by my corner and was also in shock with the rest of the crowd had snapped out of it after that comment. He climbed up on stage with a type of rage that no one had ever seen before and marched up to him. I heard he punched him so hard that he spun and landed against the opposite side of the ring, he had grabbed my broken mask out of his hand as it happened too. It caused the whole crowd to come to their senses again but watched in horror as the King laughed as he moaned in pain.

“Why couldn’t have I fought you? You had to go on an retire, leaving me with a skunk like her.” He had said in between his maniacal laughs but there was no reply to it. Xavier hadn’t come up there to fight him, it was to help me out of there because by then,

I had passed out.

The last thing I saw was the ceiling.

People had lost thousands that night. Bets which were on me had lost and I had the larger majority. I tried avoiding people as I left, battered, bruised, in bandages, but it was near impossible even though days had passed. Everyone knew my face. They looked at me with nothing but disappointment.

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Disappointment.

The people that loved me could no longer look at me with anything other than that.

News spread around the world:

‘The Mysterious Demon is dead.’

After that night the number of people who would show up only got less and less. The fighters were bullied by the King who used them as slaves outside of the ring and was beat into bloody pulps inside of the ring, disrespected, so no one would want to stay around. The crowd wasn’t a fan of his personality either. They didn’t even want to watch him fight anymore.

Six months after the fight the owner of the bar called me up. It wasn’t to fight. He was telling me that he was giving up the bar. The business was doing so badly, he couldn’t go on so he was leaving it. He said that if I wanted it, it was mine.

I had helped him, my favourite subject being business studies allowed me to get a word or two into the business back when I was still in high school so he thought it was best he handed it over to me, someone he trusted despite what had happened and it being my fault that he was in this position.

I didn’t want to show my face anymore but I also knew that I couldn’t go on doing nothing. I had to pay him back somehow. So I accepted.

With what I was able to do, I expanded the brand. We made our own drinks, held different events. I was able to open multiple more bars across the state, I spent days, weeks away from home. But I think it was obvious that it was because I was avoiding him. He who made the original bar his hangout spot.

We argued a lot. The arguments mostly to do with how he’s treating everyone, how he needed to pack up and leave, how he’s fucking everything up all the time. I’d usually be able to stand my ground against him. The whole bar would turn to stare at us as we argued as if it was a fight even though we would never scream, we’d raise our voices but only near the end when he would lose patience and start getting angrier at me. He’d keep pushing at me until he used that night against me. Striking at my weakness.

I’d look around and once again people would look at me with disappointment.

So I avoided him, trying to get people to forget my face. Of course, though, that was never entirely possible.

Being unable to fight broke me day by day.

When my brother and the rest of the guys were released, I had hoped that I could gain some normality again. I could go back to the days of our last year of high school. I could be happy again but-

I continue to break hour by hour,

Constantly reminded that I am a failure.