“You’re a fucking idiot,” a familiar voice says behind me.
I don’t so much turn around as I’m pulled around in the process.
Immediately my defenses raise. I don’t care who touched me; they get my fist to their face.
Yvon Lyonesse, tall and blonde, is the one who grabbed my shirt. Just another cog in the machine of our domains. Another rival, another problem to be handled.
“Get your fuckin’ hands off me,” I hiss and swing. It’s a miss. I’m not at my best tonight.
“You’re supposed to be on our side, against the Dresvanni. But they got your ass here protecting his pansy ass,” Yvon waves a hand at Carmine.
Carmine steps forward and grips Yvon’s shoulder, “Don’t put your hands on him,” he growls.
The sound makes me nearly shiver right here and then, but knowing the danger of getting into a fight here, I immediately reach for Carmine’s arm.
“Carm, don’t,” I try, but he’s already pulling Yvon to the side with a hard yank.
“Are you fucking serious?” Yvon laughs. “I know we all hate each other, but you can’t really be taking his side?”
I’m not even sure who he’s talking to at this point. Me or Carmine. He seems to change his mind on who he’s for and against every second with every word that comes out of his mouth.
Carmine is itching for a fight, I know it. So I try to step between them.
“Let’s take this outside,” I insist. “Not here.”
It’s too late. Yvon and Carmine are at each other’s throat the second Carmine says, “Coward.”
The crowd around us starts to back up, making a small circle of room.
“Fight!” someone yells, it starts to catch on. People shouting all around us.
“For fucks fake,” I huff, tossing myself into the scuffle. Fists flying, I grab Carmine by the back of his shirt. He grabs Yvon by the front of his, until we all stumble back against the chain link wall.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Yvon shouts, eyes crazy.
I’m too busy trying to pull Carmine away from him to notice as he reaches behind his back under his shirt.
“Fight, fight!”
The audience has no idea what they’re urging on. Or maybe they do.
Maybe they can see Yvon pull his gun out.
A hard metal connects with the side of my head as I’m pistol whipped and everything goes fuzzy for a moment. My fists cling to Carmine even in this moment, and I try to gather myself. I’m dizzy, but I see the blurry outline of a black pistol in front of my face.
“Let him go and face me like man or I shoot your fucking head off,” Yvon threatens.
I’m staring down the barrel of a gun, with my own gun no where to be found. They aren’t allowed here. How Yvon managed to get one in without the detector at the door going off is beyond me.
His finger is on the trigger. The barrel is inches from my head.
Carmine is frozen, sandwiched between the both of us.
Half the crowd is screaming in fear, while the other is watching with bated breath. Making even more room around us.
“Kill him!” someone blurts out.
I want to turn, see who it is, so I can beat the shit out of them later.
