Chapter fifty-five
Six months after his final battle with Lee and the Dragonhunters, it still enraged Antonio every time he thought about how Lee had beaten him. It was a blow to his pride and what made it worse was knowing that Lee had beat him just ten seconds after they started fighting. He couldn't give himself credit for fighting such a highly skilled warrior so long with a broken right arm. All he could dwell on was the fact that Lee--a Nig--(He could no longer make his tongue disrespect Lee or any of his people.) --black man was really the better man. That's how men like him gauge superiority. They didn't measure it against intelligence, virtue, honor, or anything else but strength and domination. Lee had dominated him. But no single man on earth will ever do it again.
He had put on 25 pounds of pure muscle since that day he lost the fight to Lee. He exercised and trained sometimes until he blacked out from pain and exhaustion. He was determined to never lose another fight. The war wasn't over yet--will never be over-- until that boy is in a hole like Lee, and the rest of the Civs are calling him master.
He and his unit had made their way back south from Canada, to New York.
They were camped at the Harbor, perfecting their sailing skills. He was going after Damian. He knew that with Bruce, Patrick, Chako, Michelle, and Sasquatch with him, the battle with Damian was going to be riskier than the one he fought with the shorthanded Lee. The boy had already defeated Mustafa head to head, and he had no doubts that by now the Soldiers with them had put the Civs through drills because that's what Soldiers do. Career Soldiers like him are cowards while at the same time being the bravest of men. They will fearlessly face death anytime, anywhere, any place, but they where terrified of being dominated, being forced to cry uncle, being beaten till they couldn't fight anymore. That's why they liked to live in Groups and Units.
He lost Mesha in that fight with Lee and his Unit. Rick was a sore sight to look at these days. One-eyed, snaggled-toothed, with a nose flatter than an Orangutan's. Rick had recovered physically; had put on almost as much new muscle as he, but he was crazy as a shithouse rat. The fight with Felix had rattled his brain. He probably should leave him behind instead of risking trying to cross the sea with him. But he wanted to use Rick's murderous madness on Damian. Through his addled brain Rick still remembered Jane and Steve if you mentioned one of their names. The one eye would bulge almost out of its socket. The veins in his neck would grow thicker than rope and he would literally puff up like a blowfish and explode, lashing out at everything he could get his hands on.
He needed Rick. He just had to find a way to control him when he fell into one of his fits of rage, and keep him from the women. He was already barred from the camp. Lived and slept outside the perimeter. He was a lunatic, but anything with nerves and tendons will learn what they can and can't do after enough pain. Rick had learned through the trials of bumps and bruises not to come into the camp. Maybe on the boat he'll keep him locked up in one of the cabins below deck.
Everyone else came out of the fight just fine.
He took pride in John, David, Tameka, Mustafa, and Sonya that he couldn't take in himself. They will live like gods with him when he come into his kingdom.
Sonya was another head case; had finally unraveled the last string in her wound up mind. But he had something to keep her under control. He had been holding it back because he knew she was going to lose it one day. But she wasn't like Rick--beat up in the brain--she was just beat up in the heart and soul. All she needed was something to help her forget.
He had buried all Lee's people--with the genuine respect due to brave warriors; had stood there at the edge of that big hole and saluted like he was standing before the President of the United States.
Fathead was alive and recovered but he paid a big price for jumping on John. He had him beat to within an inch of his life. He looked worse than Rick, and walked with a hobble, but he let the Civ live, and would have kept his promise to Janet if the Fathead had stayed out of the fight. He was a warrior and he kept his word.
Janet...He was tired of her now. Doing her now, was like sticking it in a hole in a mattress. He tried to be nice at first. Didn't even punish her for hitting Sonya. At first she refused to spread her legs, fought him from the moment he got on until the moment he got off. She probably didn't know it, but it was exhilarating and he would take her in the morning and at night, everyday for two months until she got so worn-out and hopeless, she hardly even breathes any more when he does her. Took all the thrill out of it.
But she'll still make a good cleaning lady for when he builds his mansion. When they get settled in Africa, he'll plant some kids in her; make her kids work for the children he's going to have with Michelle.
Yes, he now knew who he really wanted--who he has always wanted. This time, he will take her like he took Janet, and countless other women, but her, he will make an honest woman out of. He'll marry her. Make her kids gods among the slaves on the earth. She'll come around for that. Ultimately that's what all bitches want--to be made honest, secure and put up on a pedestal; and they didn't care what, who, or how, a man had to do to put them up there.
He had put on 25 pounds of pure muscle since that day he lost the fight to Lee. He exercised and trained sometimes until he blacked out from pain and exhaustion. He was determined to never lose another fight. The war wasn't over yet--will never be over-- until that boy is in a hole like Lee, and the rest of the Civs are calling him master.
He and his unit had made their way back south from Canada, to New York.
They were camped at the Harbor, perfecting their sailing skills. He was going after Damian. He knew that with Bruce, Patrick, Chako, Michelle, and Sasquatch with him, the battle with Damian was going to be riskier than the one he fought with the shorthanded Lee. The boy had already defeated Mustafa head to head, and he had no doubts that by now the Soldiers with them had put the Civs through drills because that's what Soldiers do. Career Soldiers like him are cowards while at the same time being the bravest of men. They will fearlessly face death anytime, anywhere, any place, but they where terrified of being dominated, being forced to cry uncle, being beaten till they couldn't fight anymore. That's why they liked to live in Groups and Units.
He lost Mesha in that fight with Lee and his Unit. Rick was a sore sight to look at these days. One-eyed, snaggled-toothed, with a nose flatter than an Orangutan's. Rick had recovered physically; had put on almost as much new muscle as he, but he was crazy as a shithouse rat. The fight with Felix had rattled his brain. He probably should leave him behind instead of risking trying to cross the sea with him. But he wanted to use Rick's murderous madness on Damian. Through his addled brain Rick still remembered Jane and Steve if you mentioned one of their names. The one eye would bulge almost out of its socket. The veins in his neck would grow thicker than rope and he would literally puff up like a blowfish and explode, lashing out at everything he could get his hands on.
He needed Rick. He just had to find a way to control him when he fell into one of his fits of rage, and keep him from the women. He was already barred from the camp. Lived and slept outside the perimeter. He was a lunatic, but anything with nerves and tendons will learn what they can and can't do after enough pain. Rick had learned through the trials of bumps and bruises not to come into the camp. Maybe on the boat he'll keep him locked up in one of the cabins below deck.
Everyone else came out of the fight just fine.
He took pride in John, David, Tameka, Mustafa, and Sonya that he couldn't take in himself. They will live like gods with him when he come into his kingdom.
Sonya was another head case; had finally unraveled the last string in her wound up mind. But he had something to keep her under control. He had been holding it back because he knew she was going to lose it one day. But she wasn't like Rick--beat up in the brain--she was just beat up in the heart and soul. All she needed was something to help her forget.
He had buried all Lee's people--with the genuine respect due to brave warriors; had stood there at the edge of that big hole and saluted like he was standing before the President of the United States.
Fathead was alive and recovered but he paid a big price for jumping on John. He had him beat to within an inch of his life. He looked worse than Rick, and walked with a hobble, but he let the Civ live, and would have kept his promise to Janet if the Fathead had stayed out of the fight. He was a warrior and he kept his word.
Janet...He was tired of her now. Doing her now, was like sticking it in a hole in a mattress. He tried to be nice at first. Didn't even punish her for hitting Sonya. At first she refused to spread her legs, fought him from the moment he got on until the moment he got off. She probably didn't know it, but it was exhilarating and he would take her in the morning and at night, everyday for two months until she got so worn-out and hopeless, she hardly even breathes any more when he does her. Took all the thrill out of it.
But she'll still make a good cleaning lady for when he builds his mansion. When they get settled in Africa, he'll plant some kids in her; make her kids work for the children he's going to have with Michelle.
Yes, he now knew who he really wanted--who he has always wanted. This time, he will take her like he took Janet, and countless other women, but her, he will make an honest woman out of. He'll marry her. Make her kids gods among the slaves on the earth. She'll come around for that. Ultimately that's what all bitches want--to be made honest, secure and put up on a pedestal; and they didn't care what, who, or how, a man had to do to put them up there.
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