The Silver Fighter | ✓

Off Brand Mickey Mouse

Michaelson charged at me with what I assumed was supposed to be a roar (though it sounded more like a cat's mew) and the corners of my lips tugged in a smirk.

'This man is so predictable. It kills me.'

I grinned at the action that he's done seven times before and smoothly did a front flip over him. 

No biggie. 

I landed on my feet with ease and could feel his confusion radiating off of him. I turned around and saw his murderous expression. His eyes narrowed in anger when he realized that I was NOT an idiot and COULD actually catch on to his patterns of fighting.

How shocking! 

He then decided to run at me with an outstretched arm.

What can I say? The dude chose violence this morning.

'Bad move, my friend.'

I caught his arm, to no one's surprise, and Judo flipped him over my shoulder. He landed on his back with a gasp, looking like he just...you know...did the good ol' Devil's Tango if you catch my drift.

...

ANYWAY, my mate Micky, I'm calling him that now, just glared at me as though he was trying to act tough.

And mate, it was hard as FUCK to not laugh at him. Because in that moment, you could have told me that the man lying on his back in front of me was a man who just lost his virginity.

And I would not have thought about it twice. 

I snorted under my breath at him and his stupidity.

'Jesus.'

Pushing back my thoughts while trying to remind myself that I had to be serious, I walked away from my man Mickey and gave him a 'bring-it-on' hand motion.

"I could do this all day." I told him honestly, a smile playing on my lips and not breathless in the slightest. He simply glared harder and charged at me again.

I sighed exasperatedly as I rubbed my temples, bored out of my fucking mind.

'This bloke really needs to come up with something more original if he's trying to scare me. No offense.'

As the off-brand Mickey Mouse neared me, I gave him a solid kick in the stomach, causing him to fall to the floor.

I rolled my eyes at the unnecessarily dramatic way he gasped.

'It's not like I kicked him in the balls.'

'...'

'Yet.'

I let him recover since this whole situation was very amusing to me and I wanted it to last just a little bit longer. A little fucked up, I know. But it was funny all the same.

Michaelson stood up and took a swing at me aggressively. Luckily, I anticipated that (because he's done it fifteen times before) and ducked out of the way. Then, when I saw an opening, I hit him in the jaw pretty flipping hard if I do say so myself.

He groaned in pain and clutched his jaw, stumbling back.

"Stay down, mate." I told him darkly with both a warning and threat in my tone. 

What can I say? I got a little bored with our immature game of cat and mouse.

Micky gritted his teeth at my words, but I turned and walked away before he could say anything. 

Well, it was more like I sauntered away, but details.

The crowd cheered once more, sounding like we were in some huge auditorium and this was a boyband concert, and I gave them all a two-fingered salute and a wink.