World Wide Warrior 28
Braden coughed as his muscles ached,
And he laid there on the floor.
The tension grew in the room,
And he was praying there wasn’t more in store.
The surly crowd of fighters could strike,
And he would certainly be toast.
But then he heard a voice cry out
That had to be the host.
The man who stepped forward had dark, slicked back hair.
Braden saw him upside down from where he lay there.
The man also wore a leather jacket, with burgundy button up shirt.
Jeans and cowboy boots beneath, but his accent wasn’t southern.
He spoke in a voice intimidating and direct,
New York seeping out from his throat.
And he yelled at Braden and the crowd.
Man: “You guys think this is a joke?
Don’t you DARE think of scrappin’ with my winners!
Kid, you’re coming with me.”
Braden began to protest but the man said,
Man: “Get up, or you’re bug meat.”
Braden got up, and two fighters,
Escorted him out to a car.
The car was black, and small, and sporty.
Man: “Don’t worry, we’re not going far.”
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