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stag.
     
    “Go on,” growled Jones, voice
dangerous, eyes narrowed.
     
    “Well, they say that man’s done a
lot of running away.”
     
    There was some laughter, a couple
of gasps, a general feeling of shock; for despite Jones having a loud mouth and
dubious views on the integrity of the female of the species, he was without
doubt a tough, bone-headed motherfucker.
     
    “They say that, do they?” said
Jones, rising slowly and turning to face Jenny Xi. He looked down at her with a
sneer on his face. Jenny was tall, a touch over six feet. But Jones was nearly
a head taller, a rippling, stocky, powerful example of an arrogant male in his
prime.
     
    “Jones...” said Zanzibar, his
voice filled with warning.
     
    “Hey, fuck you, Zanz. Keep your
nose out of this.”
     
    “Hey, I can see you’re saving
your hard-on for your boyfriends here.” Jenny winked, taking a few steps back,
smoking, eyes glittering with humour. “You wouldn’t want to give it to a real
woman like me now, would you? I bet you’d need a strap-on, you pathetic piece
of shit.”
     
    Jones rolled his neck. “Oh, I’m
going to give it to you, all right,” he said, taking a menacing step closer.
     
    Jenny lifted her fists and tightened
her jaw. “You see, all I’m bothered about is a modicum of respect. And
seeing as I’m the new Squad Leader, I see respect is something that’s
got to be earned.”
     
    “I’ll show you some respect,”
growled Jones, moving forward, his own fists raised.
     
    “Come on, let’s see it, fat boy,”
said Jenny.
     
    Jones came at her fast, and
despite his weight of muscle, he moved quickly. Right straight, right hook,
left jab, left hook. Jenny swayed, ducking the blows, then shifted back a few
steps to give herself room.
     
    “You’re slow,” she said, and took
a puff on her cigarette, flicking the butt away.
     
    “I’m going to kick your ass,
bitch.”
     
    “Yeah? Less talking, more
fighting.”
     
    Jones growled, and charged. Jenny
ducked a swipe and rammed a fist into Jones’s ribs. There came a crack and
he staggered past, wheezing, gripping his side, and whirled on her, face
flushed, hate filling his eyes.
     
    “I’m going to fucking kill you,”
he snarled.
     
    “Come on, then.”
     
    He charged again, fists flailing,
and for a moment they were both moving in a blur, a punch-up of staggering
skill, dodging, weaving, straights and hooks and jabs smashing and connecting.
Jones hit Jenny with a straight to the chin and she took a step back, amazingly
keeping her feet, avoided a follow-up punch, and delivered a right hook so
powerful it lifted Jones from his feet and deposited him on his rump with a
slap. Stunned for a moment, Jones rolled to avoid Jenny’s boot, which cracked
the earth. He slammed an elbow into her knee, folding her leg, but on the way
down her own elbow came over in a sideways blow like a bone knife, splitting
the flesh under Jones’s eye and sending him rolling away, growling like a dog.
     
    Jenny leapt up, and there was a
sheen of sweat on her skin. Slowly, she lifted her fists once more and lowered
her head.
     
    Jones stood, and in his own fist
was a knife.
     
    “Don’t be silly,” said Jenny,
head still lowered, eyes glittering dark and dangerous.
     
    “You fucking bitch,” he spat
through saliva and blood.
     
    “Jones, don’t be a dickhead,”
came the warning rumble of Zanzibar.
     
    “Yeah, you fucking idiot. Put the
knife down,” came another voice.
     
    “I’ll kill her!” Jones slurred,
lurching forward a step.
     
    Jenny held up a hand, palm out. “Stop.”
     
    “You scared, motherfucker?”
     
    “You’re raising the stakes,
Jones. Don’t make me put you down. I need you in the squad. This has gone too
far...”
     
    “Fucking whore!”
     
    He charged her, and Jenny lowered
her hands, eyes dark, mouth a grim line, and the rest of the squad watched in
hushed silence as the knife glittered through the gloom and at the last