Manny said, "Can you hit him, now? Still mourning for him, are you?"
Alix said, "I'm a machine, Manny. He can't hurt me. I can hurt him, but he can't hurt me."
"That's my boy." Manny said. "I'm glad you know what side of the fence you're on, finally."
"I know my place," Alix said. "I know my job."
"That you do. Get him."
He got him. They don't quit, these men. Not while they're conscious. Not while they're alive. Alix hit him everywhere there was room to hit, with both hands, knocking him down four times in the seventh round.
Each time, Nick got up. And in the eighth, he came out to meet Alix, walking into his doom, not flinching, not hiding, putting his crown on the line.
Supremacy? Nick had it, bastard though he was. But for how long? How long could he stay that dumb and still live?
Nick came out, his low hands a farce of a defense.
How long could he hold the animosity down with his arrogance and his brutality and his shoddiness? How much time did he have? Alix knew.