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First point of attack: weakest area, most likely his lower left rib cage. Second point: nose. Break if possible. Next, windpipe, inhibit breathing. Solar plexus, stop breathing altogether. Right hook to jaw. Send him to the ground. Victory assured. Summary of injuries: two cracked ribs, broken nose, damaged esophagus, missing tooth. Estimated time: twenty-three seconds.
The roaring crowd interrupted Holmes's thought process. The sound of bets being proclaimed and insults being traded polluted the air.
"What's wrong, pretty boy?" the burly fighter sneered.
Without a reply, Holmes slammed his fist into his opponent's rib cage, just above his stomach. When he doubled over, Holmes uppercut his nose. There was a sharp crack and blood began to spew. The man's head snapped backwards, exposing his throat. As planned he chopped his windpipe with the side of his hand. The man gagged and Holmes clapped his hands together, thrusting them into the place between both sides of the man's rib cage, knocking the wind out of him completely. For the second time the fighter doubled over, and Holmes threw his fist across the man's face.
Like a dry sand castle, the man toppled to the ground. Holmes stood, looking around at the cheering and booing crowd without expression. Twenty-three seconds exactly.
"Mr. Holmes is the winner!" bellowed the announcer, raising Holmes's arm in the air. "Will anyone take him?"
Not a soul made a move to do so. Several men, knowing with a certainty that Holmes would not remain unmatched for long, began placing their bets on the sleuth to win before an opponent had even been selected. They weren't to be disappointed.
Rather than a coherent reply in the English language, the challenge was answered with an earth-shaking grunt. Holmes turned around and craned his head back to literally look up into the face of the biggest man he'd ever seen. In all seven-by-three feet of his glory, the giant Holmes had battled in connection with the mysterious case of Jade stood with a smug look on his face.
"Je prends il," the mountain rumbled.
Men immediately began changing their bets. Holmes swallowed and mustered his courage as the giant stripped off his shirt, stepping into the ring.
"You remember me, Mr. Holmes," he said in French.
Holmes nodded, replying fluently in the language. "Very well, Kong."
He smiled. "No fancy weapons to save you this time, sparrow."
"I've always thought of myself as more of a starling," Holmes mumbled. The giant laughed, a deep-bellied, echoing laugh, and Holmes refused to admit to himself that he was terrified. Just another obstacle, he thought to himself. Use his weight against him. "Forgive me, but I was quite sure you went to prison," Holmes said, attempting to stall.
"I was pardoned," Kong said. "Seeing how you survived, there was a rather significant lack of bodies. In the eyes of the law, I am innocent."
"About as innocent as the barmaid in the pub next door. You know her well, of course? seeing as she's your mother." Amid laughter and jeering from the handful of spectators who understood the banter, Holmes thought, Perhaps if I provoke him it will undermine his judgment.
The match began.
The two men circled each other slowly, one step of the giant's for every two or three of Holmes'. "You don't stand a chance, sparrow," Kong said.
"On the contrary, I appear to be standing right now." Holmes studied the way his opponent moved, quickly formulating a rudimentary plan of attack. Firstly, go for the knees. Unbalance him. Second, break his wrist. Then?
Without warning, a fist the size of his head slammed into Holmes's gut, sending him rocketing into the side of the ring. A collective groan rose from the audience.
Dazed, with the wind knocked thoroughly out of him, Holmes climbed to his feet, just in time to be lifted off the ground and flung into the wall again. His head snapped back into the wood and he grunted in pain. Dizzily he staggered up once more. This time, at least, he managed to raise his fists in an attempt to block the hay maker aimed at his face. He stumbled back a few paces and gathered his strength, propelling his fist into the giant's stomach with everything he had. Holmes went cross-eyed as his knuckles collided with a rib that had to have the circumference of his forearm.
The giant shoved him backwards, grabbing his face and banging his forehead into that of Holmes with the force of a sledgehammer. Eugene heard himself make a strange noise as he toppled over into the dirt.
"What's the matter, Mr. Holmes?" the giant taunted. "Est-ce que tu n'es pas invincible?" With that, he picked Holmes up and threw him back down, smirking at the utterance of pain that passed the detective's lips. "Au revoir, oiseau." Kong kicked Holmes in the side before turning and retreating from the ring to be met by a mob of supporters.
Eugene Holmes lay on his stomach in the dirt, blood trickling from his nose, head throbbing something fierce, the rest of his body virtually yelling oaths at him. He stared blankly at the feet of the departing spectators.
Holmes became suddenly aware of something entirely new: gentle hands. They took a hold of his arm and rolled him over, then lifted him off the muddy ground and draped him over someone's shoulder. He decided it would be a good time for a nap as he was carried out of the ring.
First point of attack: weakest area, most likely his lower left rib cage. Second point: nose. Break if possible. Next, windpipe, inhibit breathing. Solar plexus, stop breathing altogether. Right hook to jaw. Send him to the ground. Victory assured. Summary of injuries: two cracked ribs, broken nose, damaged esophagus, missing tooth. Estimated time: twenty-three seconds.
The roaring crowd interrupted Holmes's thought process. The sound of bets being proclaimed and insults being traded polluted the air.
"What's wrong, pretty boy?" the burly fighter sneered.
Without a reply, Holmes slammed his fist into his opponent's rib cage, just above his stomach. When he doubled over, Holmes uppercut his nose. There was a sharp crack and blood began to spew. The man's head snapped backwards, exposing his throat. As planned he chopped his windpipe with the side of his hand. The man gagged and Holmes clapped his hands together, thrusting them into the place between both sides of the man's rib cage, knocking the wind out of him completely. For the second time the fighter doubled over, and Holmes threw his fist across the man's face.
Like a dry sand castle, the man toppled to the ground. Holmes stood, looking around at the cheering and booing crowd without expression. Twenty-three seconds exactly.
"Mr. Holmes is the winner!" bellowed the announcer, raising Holmes's arm in the air. "Will anyone take him?"
Not a soul made a move to do so. Several men, knowing with a certainty that Holmes would not remain unmatched for long, began placing their bets on the sleuth to win before an opponent had even been selected. They weren't to be disappointed.
Rather than a coherent reply in the English language, the challenge was answered with an earth-shaking grunt. Holmes turned around and craned his head back to literally look up into the face of the biggest man he'd ever seen. In all seven-by-three feet of his glory, the giant Holmes had battled in connection with the mysterious case of Jade stood with a smug look on his face.
"Je prends il," the mountain rumbled.
Men immediately began changing their bets. Holmes swallowed and mustered his courage as the giant stripped off his shirt, stepping into the ring.
"You remember me, Mr. Holmes," he said in French.
Holmes nodded, replying fluently in the language. "Very well, Kong."
He smiled. "No fancy weapons to save you this time, sparrow."
"I've always thought of myself as more of a starling," Holmes mumbled. The giant laughed, a deep-bellied, echoing laugh, and Holmes refused to admit to himself that he was terrified. Just another obstacle, he thought to himself. Use his weight against him. "Forgive me, but I was quite sure you went to prison," Holmes said, attempting to stall.
"I was pardoned," Kong said. "Seeing how you survived, there was a rather significant lack of bodies. In the eyes of the law, I am innocent."
"About as innocent as the barmaid in the pub next door. You know her well, of course? seeing as she's your mother." Amid laughter and jeering from the handful of spectators who understood the banter, Holmes thought, Perhaps if I provoke him it will undermine his judgment.
The match began.
The two men circled each other slowly, one step of the giant's for every two or three of Holmes'. "You don't stand a chance, sparrow," Kong said.
"On the contrary, I appear to be standing right now." Holmes studied the way his opponent moved, quickly formulating a rudimentary plan of attack. Firstly, go for the knees. Unbalance him. Second, break his wrist. Then?
Without warning, a fist the size of his head slammed into Holmes's gut, sending him rocketing into the side of the ring. A collective groan rose from the audience.
Dazed, with the wind knocked thoroughly out of him, Holmes climbed to his feet, just in time to be lifted off the ground and flung into the wall again. His head snapped back into the wood and he grunted in pain. Dizzily he staggered up once more. This time, at least, he managed to raise his fists in an attempt to block the hay maker aimed at his face. He stumbled back a few paces and gathered his strength, propelling his fist into the giant's stomach with everything he had. Holmes went cross-eyed as his knuckles collided with a rib that had to have the circumference of his forearm.
The giant shoved him backwards, grabbing his face and banging his forehead into that of Holmes with the force of a sledgehammer. Eugene heard himself make a strange noise as he toppled over into the dirt.
"What's the matter, Mr. Holmes?" the giant taunted. "Est-ce que tu n'es pas invincible?" With that, he picked Holmes up and threw him back down, smirking at the utterance of pain that passed the detective's lips. "Au revoir, oiseau." Kong kicked Holmes in the side before turning and retreating from the ring to be met by a mob of supporters.
Eugene Holmes lay on his stomach in the dirt, blood trickling from his nose, head throbbing something fierce, the rest of his body virtually yelling oaths at him. He stared blankly at the feet of the departing spectators.
Holmes became suddenly aware of something entirely new: gentle hands. They took a hold of his arm and rolled him over, then lifted him off the muddy ground and draped him over someone's shoulder. He decided it would be a good time for a nap as he was carried out of the ring.