He jabbed, I bobbed. He crossed, I weaved. I gave the crowd a show. I went three round without throwing a single punch. I demoralized my opponent. He couldn't hit me. Then it was my turn… I landed an uppercut into his abdomen. It had to have hurt. With all the breath knocked out of him, I followed up with a straight right hand; landed square on the chin. I felt it come loose a little. With blood seeping from his mouth, and very little hope of him damaging me, his corner threw in the towel. Obviously, they want to save him for another day. For me, it's exactly as I foresaw it. An easy victory, an easy fight purse, and an easy tournament title.
It was time for a brew after the fight. I was slamming back a pint of ale whenever a fellow I had given some coin to approached me. He gave me the information I had been seeking. Information about who burned me and my parents' house down. I knew it was mafia. I just never knew which mafia. Low amd behold, they just so happen to have a hangout here in the very town I am in. They should have made sure I died in that fire. I am through with running. Steve Fox doesn't run anymore. He fights back. It's about time these cocksuckers get what is coming to them.
There I was, standing outside the keep of the mafia that wanted me to throw a fight, and burned everything that I had when I refused. I was finishing my cigar when some riders approached. They stopped almost in front of me and were pointing towards the mansion. They began bickering among themselves, and weren't paying me any attention. So, without further ado, I walked towards the gatehouse.