Good Guy

Part Twenty-three

Cleo couldn't believe it.

One moment, she was having the time of her life with Scotch, and the next thing she knew, war had erupted along the Esplanade. He and Jackson were going at each other like wild animals, almost as if both of them were out for blood. Fists flew in every which direction, not only to her horror but the shock of other passers-by.

Scotch received a hit to his side, which he countered by socking Jackson's face. A little more to the left, and he would have broken a nose. He blocked a punch to his gut. His fist connected with Jackson's ribs, hard enough that it was going to leave an obvious bruise. He barely escaped a black eye after Jackson targeted his head. Cleo knew that if they continued on, they were bound to end up at a hospital.

"Jackson! Stop it! Scotch!" Cleo tried pleading with them, hands up in the air, even though she didn't have the courage or strength to break the two of them up. They were two guys, both stronger and faster than her. The possibility of receiving a stray blow to the head was astronomical. "Adelih! Do something!"

"Why the fuck would I care, Hilard?! These bastards deserve a pounding," Adelih said, gathering her bearings after having been shoved aside.

"Are you serious?!" Cleo wanted to start punching Adelih herself. "How can you only think about yourself?! They're going to kill each other!"

Luckily, two men from the growing crowd came forward, quickly wedging between the fighting teens. Another two followed suit, grabbing each of the guys by the arms. The four then-onlookers pried Scotch and Jackson apart despite their protests, telling them to calm down. Both ended up restrained at the arms by two people. Cleo approached Scotch as soon as he was a reasonable distance from Jackson.

"Are you okay?" she asked, a little too nervous to realize that the answer was obvious enough.

Scotch tried jerking away from the men holding him, but they held fast. He wasn't budging an inch. "He started it," Scotch said instead. "He would've gone for you too."

"You need to calm down," Cleo replied, but Jackson's yell made him tense even more.

"Let go of me, you idiots!" Jackson was still a little out of control, and it didn't help that Adelih was marching away from the situation before anybody could stop her. Trust the brat to make a mess of things and then leave it for others to clean up. "He was asking for it!"

"We weren't asking for anything!" Cleo protested, grabbing Scotch by the arm after he was released by the two men, who remained close by in case the fighting broke out again. Thankfully, Scotch had managed to reign in whatever hatred he had for Jackson. Still, she clung to him in an effort to stop a second round from happening. "We were here minding our own business. It was your girlfriend who got things rolling, Jackson."

Cleo regretted ratting Adelih out after Jackson turned his head and started looking for her. An ugly expression crossed his face when he didn't find who he was looking for. It was sort of a mix of anger and disbelief, probably because no girl had ever walked away from him before, just like that. "I'm gonna dump that bitch's ass if I don't kill her first!"

She was about to tell him to chill out, until someone new but with an oddly familiar voice stepped out of the small crowd. "Who's killing who now?"

She turned, and she knew that dirt had hit the fan as Professor Martin came forward and assessed the situation. He was fairly tall and fit for his mid-forties age, which made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. The formal jacket he wore during lectures was draped over his figure, giving him an air of authority. The professor was generally lenient with students, but like any other faculty of the institution, he wasn't one for allowing the school's reputation to be smudged. Two university teens fighting it out on the streets was high up on that 'ways to disgrace your alma mater' list.