Yanga took a swig from his drink, and looked him straight in the eye. “Says who?”.

A hush fell over the bar. All eyes were on us now.

“Says me”, the cocky one continued, and focused his gaze towards me, “unless you want a repeat of last time”. He took a drag out of his cigarette.

I took a quick glance at the other two cronies accompanying him. One held a baseball bat, the other was playing with his knife.

A surge of adrenaline quivered through my veins, as my hands bawled up into fists. I was itching to show these punks was a grave error they had made messing with me.

“Okay,” I said, as I slowly stood from my seat. I leaned in to his ear and whispered “Let’s have a repeat of what happened last time. I dare you to do it again”.

The cocky one chortled, almost sounding like he was choking on the smoke. He laughed, before blowing smoke onto my face

“Actually, let me help you”, I said, as I grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him off. With all the strength I could muster, I threw him across the floor.

The other guys gawked at me, closing in like hungry wild dogs. The one with a knife came up, attempting to stab me.

Yanga stood up, fast as a serpent, and yanked out the knife from his hand. He grabbed him by the head, and slammed his face into the wall. Blood sprayed out of his nose, as he crouched down in pain.

Their cocky ringleader quickly got up, and charged at me like a wild boar. He quickly landed a punch on my jaw. I expected to feel the impact of his punch, something that would fuel my adrenaline. Instead, I felt nothing. His punch wasn’t painful. He attempted again, this time, punching my abdomen. Again, there was no pain.

My opponent looked just as confused as I was. Nevertheless, I couldn’t let this punk win the fight. As he came in for a third punch, I grabbed his arm and pulled him towards me. Then, I slugged him on his face. He went sprawling on the floor. I couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Brutus, look out behind you!”, I heard Yanga shout.

I turned to look behind, and I was greeted by a bat making contact with my face. Everyone in the bar gasped. Some cringed at the sight of me being hit with the weapon. Some winced, as if they could feel the pain from the hit. Strangely enough, I couldn’t feel any pain.

I turned my head to look at the guy who hit me. He still gripped at his bat, which was broken in two. “You’re going to regret that,” I said, an eerie calmness dripping from my voice. He shivered, cowering backwards. I shot out a punch straight to his jaw. Four teeth flew out of his mouth, along with a spitful of blood. His body twisted awkwardly, before falling to the floor. I had knocked him out cold.

The cheers from everyone watching us at the bar erupted, a symphony to my ears. It felt good that I could settle the score with that punk.

The night was filled with applause aimed at me

********

I jolted awake from my slumber, gasping for air as beads of sweat dripped down my forehead. I felt lightheaded and giddy. My throat felt extremely dry like I hadn’t drunk water in a long time

I decided to get up from bed, to quench the sudden thirst I had.

As I put my foot down, I could feel that the floor felt soft, almost alive, wriggling. I quickly flicked the switch from the lamp next to my bed. Light flooded the entire room, and what I had initially thought to be the floor, was Zion, crawling at the foot of my bed, trying to slip out unnoticed.