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The rumble starts.
Johnny makes a beeline for Derby, who simply waits for him. The thing is, Derby knows it isn’t wise for him to take on this fight alone.
While he wasn't weak, his fighting style prioritised defense much over offense. Fighting someone who specialised in
Derby breaks the wall of protection created by his raised arms to throw his braced fist into Johnny, who easily parries the hit. The greaser retaliates with a punch that is similarly blocked.
The next few minutes of the fight were a flurry of attacks,
“You’ll never spill a drop of my blue blood.” Derby sneers as he blocks for what feels like the millionth time. Fed up, Johnny rolls his shoulders and pounces at the other boy.
They land on the ground, Johnny on top of and straddling Derby. Pulling the blonde boy up by the collar of his shirt, Johnny raises his fist and smacks his face back and forth.
There was something exhilarating about it all. Feeling his delicate human body be manhandled and twisted so carelessly. He paid attention in biology. He knew how fickle they were. One errant slip and a bad landing on your head could turn you into a vegetable for the rest of your life, and it wasn’t even your fault. It just happened.
What would happen, if Johnny Vincent killed me? The thought brings a smile to his face.
His father’s lawyers would get him nothing short of life without parole. He’d go to jail and probably reunite with his dear old father, if he hadn’t kicked the bucket yet. Lola wouldn’t talk to him anymore, in fact, nobody would, not when he was a murderer. He’d never see the light of day again, growing hideously old and alone until eventually some hopped up druggie shanked him over his ration of gruel and he finally tasted the sweet release of death on the cold, grimy floor of a prison cell–
"What the fuck is your problem, freak?" He snaps out of his fantasy and is brought back to the moment, where he sees Johnny Vincent panting above him. The dark blue sky and twinkling stars behind him almost make the greaser look pretty.
Derby’s smile only grows wider.
Johnny hits him 2 times before Derby pushes him off and gets back up, albeit a bit disoriented.
Derby's defense is no match for Johnny's attacks. Derby blocks one punch, smugly grinning as he hits the other in the stomach, which is quickly wiped off his face when Johnny throws up his leg and hits him with a kick that literally knocks him on his ass.
As he’s sent reeling down to the ground, one of his arms flailing to catch him ends up twisted beneath his back.
The disgusting sound of bone snapping and Derby’s indignant shriek that follows it are just more sounds amongst the cacophony of the fight.
The prep had been rendered entirely useless now. He flips over, trying to crawl away, but something stops him.
He tries to look back, but something stomps into the back of his head and slams his face back onto the ground. His skin scrapes against the concrete, tearing and ripping as it’s grinded into the ground with Vincent’s disgusting boot.
His screams are silenced as his
Everything hurts. Derby wasn't sure he’d ever felt like this before. He wasn’t talking about the violent pain coursing through his arm and face and his entire fucking body, no, but finally being bested.
When you’re born into a position like his, there are few people in his life who dared to defy him.
Johnny Vincent was among those few.
The first time Derby saw Johnny, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed with disgust.
"I don't do handouts. Run along now, I have no intention of catching one of your... urban diseases." He makes a little shooing gesture with his smooth hand, clearly untouched by any sort of work or duty.
"What'd you say?" Johnny scowled.
"Must I repeat myself?” He dramatically sighed. "I said get lost, pauper." Derby smirked. All his friends laugh alongside him, so unbearably haughty that it didn’t even sound genuine anymore.
“Ain’t nobody beating Johnny Vincent!” He yells, puffing out his chest. Derby rolls over, taking hasty breaths between each pained groan. He swears that he can hear someone calling out his name in the distance.
He’s struggling to keep his eyes open now, and yet he still watches with rapt attention as Johnny elbows an attacking prep to the side.