I dodge the first punch. The second hits me across the jaw. The pain is shocking, blinding. I fucking love it. This is the only thing that feels real. The only thing that feels genuine. I hate this shithead, and he hates me. We want to tear each other apart. Beating him proves that I’m better than him—smarter, faster, stronger. I’ve killed men before, when I had to. That’s work, and I don’t enjoy it. Fighting is different. It’s pure fun. And I’m really fucking good at it. One-on-one I almost never lose.
