"What a round, ladies and gentleman. Sean O'Keefe has just knocked down Jerry Quarry. Is he going to be the number one contender for the World Championship? The bell won't save Quarry because there's two minutes left in the round. Three…four…five…Quarry's getting up – O'Keefe is in the neutral corner, and I must say ladies and gentlemen he is battered beyond belief, but what a left hand that young Irishman has. "

"Can Quarry keep going while he's being punished by the hammer-like blows of O'Keefe? Here they come – a right and then a left – Quarry's staggered! O'Keefe is coming in for the kill – OH MY GOD! O'Keefe is down! O'Keefe is down! Jerry Quarry hit him with a left hook and O'Keefe is down!"

"Five…O'Keefe is rolling over…six….seven….he's trying to get up…eight….he can't do it!…nine…ten! The fight is over…Jerry Quarry wins by a knockout!"

2002

"Hey man? Whas up?" Cletus jived. His clothes were the best that dope dealing could buy. The sleeveless shirt showed off his thick ropy biceps and man, he was cut. Like a black Adonis. For a twenty-three year old in Newark, he had it made in the shade.

"Nuttin, Cletus. Just lookin for something to do. How about you?" Rollins sucked a last drag from the joint and held it out to Cletus for a toke.

"'bout the same." He shook his head no to the offer. "I'm looking for something – got a notion in my mind and I want to act on it. I been watchin' Karate movies so I can be my own enforcer, you know what I mean? For the excitement. Man, I need some physical action, an not just fucking up some dude." Cletus used the arm motions like he saw the rappers do- making the biceps flex and looking cool..

"So why don't you go take on some of your competition, get 'em out of the picture, so to speak," Rollins said.

"Too risky man, you think I want beat up?. Com'on…let's hit on Larimer, see if anything grabs my eye."

* * *

Cletus's ’90 Monte Carlo struck bottom when the tire went down a pothole. "Goddamn! Just cuz this is the sleaze pit of Newark don't mean they can't fix the goddamn potholes. Be lucky we don't run over some fuckin' bum and get blood all over my car."

Bars and whorehouses lined the street on both sides. Shadows could be seen lying in dark doorways as the dregs of society huddled under a blanket or pieces of cardboard for warmth.

The "clunk" from the hydraulics dropping the car’s body down to its normal height made an unnatural sound in the night. Country and western music floated out from the closed doors of the bars.

"Look." Cletus pointed to an obvious drunk staggering out of a bar door and heading down the street. They fell in step behind and followed the drunk into an alley.

"Hey, my man," Cletus held a dollar bill out in front of him.

Rummy eyes looked warily at the two men. The ragged dressed man licked his lips and held his hand out, moving toward Cletus. "Thank you sir, it's been hard times."

The side of Cletus's foot landed square on the drunk's chest knocking him back into the alley wall. He came in close and chopped at the collar bones until a satisfying crack mixed with the cries of pain and pleadings for him to stop.

Cletus held the front of the coat and slammed him back into the wall again. "Yo dirty as a pig, hope I don' got nothing on me." He turned to Rollins. "I always wanted to try this." He rammed the heel of his hand under the drunk's nose and shoved the bone up. Blood gushed out and a spray of spittle flew from the bum's mouth.

"Goddamn, you got spoof on me." He grunted from holding the dead weight. "Rollins, you wanna smack him some?"

"Shit no, let's get outta here, dude." His nose wrinkled from the odor from the drunk's sphincter muscles that had let loose.

The splat sounded like a side of beef being dropped when Cletus hit the adam's apple with his fist. "Hell, he's dead already! Cool." He let go of the coat and the man crumpled to the ground with his eyes half-open. "Man, I can feel death. I'm a bad fuckin' dude."

"What the hell you doing, Cletus?" Rollins asked tersely.

"Checking his pockets…yup. A couple of bucks, he ain't gonna use it."

Cletus's laugh bounced off the alley's walls as the two men trotted out and over to the Monte Carlo. He started it up and pushed the button. The car’s body jumped up twelve inches. "Now we cool," he said with a laugh.

Careful not to hurt the car on the lousy street, he eased it away from the curb and head back uptown.

* * *

"Rollins, I gots to do it again. Man, that was better than pussy." Cletus had a dreamy look on his face and snorted some coke.

"I thought you didn't do coke. Wass happening to you?"

"It's the power…the power of death. You need to do it, dude. You got this livin', breathin' human in your hands, and to snuff him like blowing a candle out is…awesome. Don't get me wrong, it ain't hard to kill anyone, especially shootin' 'em, but to see their eyes when you shove their nose bone into their brain, Goddamn, you gotta do it." A sheen of sweat popped out on his forehead. His finger wiped under his nose and into his mouth where he licked the last of the coke off. "You gotta do it," he mumbled.

"Yeah," Rollins said. "Maybe I will. Gimme a toot."

* * *

The next one was as easy as the first. The one after put up some resistance. Fingers twisted from arthritis not quite formed into a fist glanced off Cletus's jaw.

"Hey, this dude has some fight in him. Com'on, hit me." Cletus moved from side to side, held his arms down and did the old rope-a-dope. "Can't touch me, can you?" His fist came out and broke the yellow front teeth of the bum. "I like you, what's your name, man?"

Matted hair sticking out wildly from under a watch hat, the man sobbed and said, "Chuck." Blood ran down his chin from his mouth and one broken tooth hung by a strand of tissue

"Well Chuck." A front snap kick to the groin dropped Chuck to the ground noiselessly.

"You do him, Rollins," he said in a voice without pity.

Two quick jabs and a side kick to Chuck's face was all it took. They both heard the death rattle. "Holy shit, spooky. But— mighty fine."

"Damn, he died too quick on you. Let's find one more cuz after three beat to dead bums, even the cops will start looking." Cletus picked Chuck's arms up and with Rollins holding the dead man's feet, they carried him over and stuffed him behind a dumpster.

A handful of bills were waved at the disheveled shadow that limped past the alley entrance. "My man," Cletus shouted. "Come on in here, I gots a proposition for you."

The fellow stopped, peered in and walked toward them. Like the others, he'd fallen on hard times and looked like he barely survived life.

"What'd you want?" he asked, slurring his words.

"Just your help for a minute," Cletus said smoothly. "Over here."

The smell of whisky was strong and Cletus winked at Rollins. "Hey Rollins, you ever see Billy Jack?" He stopped the man with a hand on his arm. "Hold on here. You know, where he whacks the guy on his jaw with his foot?"

"Yeah, I remember."

The bum looked from one to the other, back and forth, like he didn’t know what they were saying.

"Watch." Cletus did a roundhouse kick, his right foot came up and hit on the man's right side of his face, stumbling him back against the dumpster. The bum covered up with his arms and Cletus stepped away then leaped toward him with a backhand, smashing the drunk's nose.

The drunk moaned and slid down the dumpster. He looked up with uncomprehending eyes.

"Man, you KO 'ed the fucker." Rollins squealed. "You're DOWN FOR THE COUNT!"

Shaking his head, the bum rose to his feet and lifted his hands up in front of him. His eyes seemed to clear and in a voice so low no one heard him, he said, " I ain’t out, Quarry."

"Go ahead Rollins, take him out."

"Be my pleasure, but first…come on, I'm giving you a free one." Rollins stuck his chin out and grinned. "Right here, you piece of shit." He pointed to his dimple.

The left hook shattered Rollins's jaw. Before he could fall, a right cross hammered him in the side of the face throwing his head violently to the side. Rollins's knees buckled and he fell down sideways. The bum and Cletus watched as one of Rollin's legs twitched, then went still.

"GODDAMN YOU!" Cletus threw a front kick that bounced off the raised knee of the bum.

The bum bobbed and weaved, like he had twenty-eight years past. Three fast jabs and a straight right to the face knocked Cletus across the alley and into the wall. He shook his head trying to clear the stars he saw.

The bum stared at Cletus. "You’re going down, Quarry." Heavy blows caught the black man in the stomach, doubling him over. A hard uppercut snapped his head back an into the wall. Another right, then a left, gut, uppercut.

"Stop! Don' hit me no more. I’m sorry. Let me go." Cletus forced the words out through a battered face and swollen tongue. He couldn't draw a deep breath. Everytime he thought the punishing blows were done, he'd be driven into the wall again by a flurry of hard fists.

The last overhand fist to Cletus's side of his head tore the lining of his brain. The last blow to his forehead ruptured a small mass of blood vessels in the frontal lobe. He never saw the man lift his hands or heard him shout—I got you, Quarry."

The bum shook his head again and looked at his balled up fists. "I coulda took you Quarry, I know I coulda took you." He hunched his shoulders and walked toward the mouth of the alley.