Ike Smash Brawl Novels & Stories

Little Mike yelled. Little Mike’s hands left his throat and he gasped for breath. Two other men were trading punches with Little Mike, two men he didn’t know. Little Mike pulled a shiv from his pocket and Jake jumped in between him and his target. The shiv went into Jake’s ribs and blood gushed from the wound. “We got you,” a voice said. The other man was beating the shit out of Little Mike and Jake slid down the shower wall.

Vane roared in pain and anger, and he swung again, this time hitting Liam in the side of the head with his free fist. Liam stumbled back, his vision blurring for a moment, blood trickling down his temple. But he quickly regained his balance, dodging another swing from Vane. The fight was brutal, chaotic. Vane was relentless, swinging the broken bottle over and over, his movements wild but powerful. Liam used his smaller size to his advantage, weaving around him, striking back with the knife whenever he saw an opening. He could feel blood running down his shoulder and his head, but he barely felt the pain—all he could think about was getting the truth.

Mario asks excitedly, a wide smile spreading across his face. Max chuckles at Mario's enthusiasm. "Settle down, buddy, hehehe ...." He pauses before continuing, "John 'Banting' is looking for a sparring partner for an MMA fight, but well, you'd have to take a dive and let yourself get hit, it's a fixed match to boost John's profile."

he looked like a god of war. His eyes were glowing, his teeth slightly elongated and every muscle in his body was coiled like a spring about to snap. Smith tried to lung at him but Jacob was a shadow. He dodged the punch, grabbed Smith’s arm and with one brutal motion, snapped it. The sound of the bone breaking was sickeningly loud in the quiet street. Smith screamed but Jacob didn't stop. He delivered a kick to the man's chest that sent him skidding across the asphalt.

Smash. The wet, heavy sound of meat hitting meat echoed across the silent yard. Blood coated my knuckles, turning my hands into slick, red weapons. Taya stopped trying to defend herself. Her head simply bounced against the frozen dirt with every impact. Her face was no longer a face. It was a ruined, unrecognizable mask of split skin, crushed cartilage, and dark, flowing blood. "Stop!" The voice tore through the horrific silence. "Stop it! She's dead! You're killing her!"

BAM! A sweeping kick struck another man's knee. KRAK! Another sickening crack echoed through the arena as the knee snapped. The man collapsed screaming. Another thug tried to stab him from behind. Black Garuda saw it. "Boss!" Arka didn't even turn around. He stepped back half a pace. The stab missed. Black Garuda came in from the side. BUGH! His hammer-like fist smashed into the attacker's face, sending teeth flying. The arena had now descended into complete chaos.

he shouted at me. Without warning, Damien lunged at me, his fist aiming for my face. I ducked, the adrenaline surging through my veins as I swung back, landing a solid punch on his jaw. The crowd around us erupted, cheers and gasps mingling as the fight escalated. “Is that all you got?” Damien taunted, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip with the back of his hand. I didn’t bother with a response. My body moved on instinct, fueled by the need to protect Katrina, to end this madness. We exchanged blows, the world around us fading into nothing but a blur of fists and fury.

He was dodging more than fighting, barely keeping himself from getting flattened. “Are you going to throw a punch or just dance around like a jackass?” I shouted, blocking a hit and slamming my elbow into another guy’s gut. Andrea shot me a glare. “I didn’t come here to get into a goddamn brawl!” “Well, congratulations!” I snarled, dodging another swing. “You’re in one now!” A massive guy with tattoos covering his arms grabbed me by the collar, snarling in my face. “You got a death wish, pretty boy?”

He didn’t bleed. He just smiled. They circled each other like predators, fists flying with lethal intent. Blood came early. Damon’s lip split open, a crimson line trailing down his chin. Then came the uppercut— savage, merciless —slamming into Damon’s jaw and sending him crashing to the mat. I screamed, my voice raw, my heart lurching into my throat. The crowd gasped in unison, a wave of shock rippling through the arena. But Damon rose.

He knocks his forehead into mine and I hold his stare, “She smelled like oranges, Nevi but her tits were—” “Fuck you!” He sends my head snapping to the left with a power-packed punch. I repay the favor with quick jabs to his ribs and the real fight begins as we tear into each other like beasts with every blow and nobody moves to separate us. Nobody dares. Malakai stalks into the ring with a hose and opens the tap on our bloodied forms. We turn our glares at him and he retrieves his phone, pointing at it. “We have a problem!”