Unstoppable

The Fifty-Eighth

"Wow, isn't this a lovely place?" He said aloud, closing the door and looking me dead in the face with a genuine smile. He knew he had me cornered. I had nowhere left to run or hide. I manage to run, and he'll go back to The Boss and lock the entire place down. I try and beat him, he'll literally rip me to pieces, and bring me back to his little master in a doggy bag. It looked like a lose-lose situation.
"I try my best." I replied, trying my best to keep a straight face as Callum stepped forward.
"Hey, Oscar! How's business?" Callum said, clearly trying to draw attention away from me, but to no available avail, as the muscle man kept his eyes on me.
"I don't speak to traitors. Keep yourself away from me." The bluntness in Oscar's voice surprised me, as this was the first time I could clearly hear him.
You mean without you almost dying?
Yeah, 'fraid So.
"So, what's next, slave?" I tainted him, trying to provoke some sort of anger in him, making him reckless, but to no avail.
"No, I have complete freedom. I'm not a pawn, or a little king in this game of castles, I'm simply the man who's called when you need reminding of who the king around here is." Oscar seemed to maximise his spacing as he said this, taking over the hallway second by second.
"You seemed to forget, but since punishing you does nothing, we changed it up a little bit..." The threat hung in the air for around five seconds before I lost a slight bit of my patience:
"Well, out with it! What is it?!" I asked, almost exasperated.
"We've found Poppy and Charlotte... And they're currently suffering for what you've done." The voice of Oscar seemed to echo the thoughts of The Boss, who clearly used Oscar to be there in spirit.
Oh. Oh dear.
My eyes seemed to harshly radiate anger as I took a long and intentional look at Callum, who held my gaze for a moment before breaking it and looking down, momentarily giving me a second to reflect on what to do.
"Get out of my way." My voice became as blunt as him as I stepped towards him, but he stood firm, clearly not moving for anyone.
"No. I'm sorry, but-" Oscar began, but I wasn't listening.
"You aren't sorry at all, you dog. All you care about is who holds your leash. I'm gonna break your neck in a moment, so I suggest you fucking move." My voice seemed to echo around the nearly empty house as I stood firm, beginning to breathe heavily.
"Or what? What are you going to do? Scrawny little shit. I already told you: I've fought bricks harder than you." He'd already begin to crack his fists as he spoke: he knew I wanted him to move, and I was going to move him.
No matter what.

I can't remember who swung first, but I can remember the satisfaction of landing the first hit, and watching his face morph and mould around my fist, seeming to take every inch of the knuckle into itself for consideration.
How respectable.
Another power train uppercutted it's way through Oscar's small spot in his ribs, actually managing to seethe through the vest of pure muscle and strength that clouded his weak spots. He did stagger, but only for a moment, as as soon as he did, his hydraulic pressure pumps, otherwise known as his legs, soon kicked in, combatting the stagger almost inhumanly quickly. He looked up, and a ring of sweat had appeared, and a short dribble of blood seemed to gently trace its way down the chiselled out features of his body.
"Huh. More hurt than usual..." He let his sentence trail off, looking almost through me and into the house, as it there was something here he wanted that wasn't my soul.
"Christ..." I could hear Callum say, and as a spun around really quickly, jumping back, I could see that he'd begin to run off.
Oh for fucks sake!...
"Looks like you clearly don't know who you're friends are." Oscar smiled, and sniffed the dribble of blood back up his nose.
"How did you even find here?" I asked him, praying it was by chance.
"Oh, I followed Callum. He walked in here around thirty minutes ago, before you strolled in. Took me a few moments to recognise you, and to make sure the place was safe to attack before I walked in. Unlike you, I think my shit through." Oscar dug his way behind my skin, and at this point, he knew it. I tried to fight the look of pure hate on my face, I really did, but I just couldn't help it: I despised this man.
Oscar finally threw a punch, but the silence leading up to it had allowed me to plan ahead, and so I glanced it off of my wrist, neatly ducked under it, before coming back up and smashing another fist into the front of his ribs, again bypassing the muscle like a spy pushing past the boundaries of a compound. It felt like I was slashing with a knife, but I still felt like myself. I still felt normal. I still felt human.
"You little shit." I heard him spit before his leg stretched up and tangled itself with mine, knocking one out. I could feel the sudden shift, and so thinking fast, I threw my other leg upwards, and managed to crack my foot against his jaw, causing a satisfying clack to emerge from the two combining with such ferocious force. A groan emerged from deep within, the sound of a grizzly bear just rearing its head in annoyance before settling back down. A small spot of spittle managed to escape his mouth as I spun away, claiming more ground.
Callum, you little bitch, where are you?!
The answer I got was a gentlemanly hammerfist to the side of my body, sending me crashing into the back of a mirror I'd recently hung up in the hall, causing minor and larger fragments of glass to rip their way into my skin, attempting to merge and connect with my body. Clearly in the state of rejection, my body began to scream out pain, but I did my best to silence it: I couldn't be distracted in situations like this.
I'm back... I feel rather rejuvenated after that nap.
You feel well enough to fight?
Oh, of course. I will always be good enough to fight. I respect you letting me sleep though.
You mind taking over?
Not at all, my friend. Not. At. All.