Transgression (Prequel #1)

1 - Ghosts of Yesterday

An audible crack of bones snapping vibrated through the concrete wall, as Alex narrowly avoided the incoming fist. Maintaining a tight offensive stance, he watched Luis' jittery movements, anticipating another attack. Luis retracted his crumpled fist and held it limp in the other, offering a disrespectful glare and many silent insults. Alex followed his instinct and took this as an opportunity; returning the favor with a hard blow to Luis' lower jaw.

The impact stunned him for a brief moment and made the initial opening something of a glaring fallacy. Alex slid to the left, getting his back away from the wall, retreating a few steps and nearly tripping over a bucket of plaster.

A tender icy wind plucked at the short bristle hair on his head, rolling previous sweat from the day down his brow and over one eye. He wiped it away and the two locked eyes, their energy blazing within the small gap.

Luis wiped the saliva from the edge of his mouth and exhaled sharply, his breath a light mist in the chilled air. The few apprehensive onlookers kept their distance, placing silent bets on a victor while equally hoping there would be none. Alex observed his surroundings, taking note of the ten-foot empty pool a few feet to his left and the heavy tools which littered the ground. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but it kept his attention split.

Panting at their own pace, the two soaked in the sun's delicate rays with fierce eyes. Luis was a stocky but short Hispanic guy in his mid-thirties with a quick fuse and a lot of pent-up aggression. He paraded around with a cocky mouth and an annoying habit of undoing and redoing his ponytail, as if it would impress any of the other guys.

The crew couldn't help but make fun of his stereotypical behavior at times but kept the tone light enough not to upset him. That being said, he was a nice guy; gentle when he needed to be, unless you got under his skin. Right now, Alex had to show he couldn't be intimidated. This was more than a battle of strength; it was a display of physical prowess. Not just for them but for their gawking friends.

Alex smirked and with a relaxed posture he lifted his shirt off. As he raised it over his head he swayed to the side, off balanced and almost falling over. He got the fabric off and threw it to the ground; the brisk air licking the exposed skin around his dirty wife-beater.

He was by no means ripped, but the muscles he boasted were nothing to scoff at given his age and work history. However, the many scars and discolored skin from past trauma were quite visible on his collar bone, biceps and forearms; giving him the overall win for visual intimidation.

The breezy air swirled around, rebounding off the tight corners and short fence that caged them. The amount of heated energy contained within this open box amped up even the spectators. As a joke, Robert leaned over and turned the volume knob for the box radio they had resting on a toolbox; cranking up the hard-rock music in the background. The air was breezy but calm, yet the energy residing within this small circle was profound.

Consumed by the latent fury burning in his chest, Luis closed the small gap with a predictable jab. Alex slowly blocked the incoming punch with the back of his left arm, but Luis was not about to fight like a light-weight boxer. Following the single punch, he kicked at Alex's leg which staggered him, giving Luis the chance to punch him square in the face.

He took the punch and his body shivered down to the bone. With a sloppy, half coordinated fist, Alex responded with a similar punch. Luis turned his head to avoid a nose hit but instead took the full brunt of his fist to the right ear. The low murmur of the surrounding eyes grew, and the situation became much more intense.

Alex hastily regained his balance and took a step back, only now noticing the sting in his right hand. A deep bloody gash on his middle knuckle dripped to the concrete below. Looking back at Luis he saw even more blood pouring down the side of his neck. He didn't seem terribly bothered by the blood, instead he reached up and grabbed hold of the earring that had gotten caught by the punch and tore it the rest of the way through his lobe, tossing it to the ground. This especially ticked him off, seeing how it was the only earring he wore and now his lobe was torn.