Robert Charrette - Arthur 01 - A Prince Among Men by Robert N. Charrette

the smile.
    "You've made it your trouble."
    Winston released Trahn and swung on John. John stepped back into one of the jocks, who shoved him right back at Winston. Winston's second punch caught John in the stomach, doubling him over.
    Winston laughed. "Don't need your help, Vinny. The ghostly broomstick's all shadow, no substance."
    John's punch caught Winston in the stomach, but the jock didn't double over; he just whuffed, more from surprise than from pain. The guy was built like a wall. But the attack bought John time to get out of Winston's reach.
    He danced away from Winston's next swing and punched back. John's long reach let him strike while staying out of Winston's range. He took advantage of it, lashing out to belabor the jock as he tried to close. But Winston wasn't stymied for long. Ducking his head down, he charged, apparently willing to take punishment in order to get to grips with John. The guy was a pig-head like Phil. Like Phil, he was successful. He slipped past John's fists and slammed into him. They both went down, John landing on the shoulder that Phil had slashed.
    It hurt.
    Heat flared through him. Thrashing his way free of Winston's clutching paws, he rolled to his feet. The jock was up too, and charging again. Ready for that tactic now, John stepped aside and clipped him on the side of the head. The pig-head tried again just the same. John gave him fists.
    He felt giddy. This was not like fighting Phil. No swords here, just flesh and bone. And blood. John caught the jock on the right temple and opened the skin. Winston was spending more time blocking now. John's knuckles were raw, but he kept punching, because Winston kept coming. John was glad to oblige him. The jock's defenses were getting sloppier, and John scored again and again. Winston's own attacks were becoming less coordinated. John caught him on the nose and felt it crunch. Winston staggered back.
    "So, mister tough guy. Like the other side of it?"
    Somebody in the crowd laughed.
    Winston flung himself forward, catching John off guard. The jock's head came up under John's chin, shocking John's teeth together. He tasted blood. His own.
    Grappling, Winston tried to squeeze the breath out of John. John hammered Winston's shoulders, to little avail. John's vision grayed as the jock squeezed harder. Dizzy, John brought his fists together against Winston's ears. The jock howled and let go. John pummeled his unprotected midsection.
    "Hurt me, will you?"
    John hit him again. And again. Winston started to stagger, but John was not going to let him off easily. He kept punching, harder and faster. Winston went down.
    Not easy at all. Gonna pay, Winston.
    John pounced on Winston and pinned the jock's flailing arms under his knees. Winston's head rocked back and forth under John's fists. Someone was yelling somewhere. It sounded like Trahn. Let him yell; Winston was getting what he deserved.
    John raised his fist for another punch, but it didn't fall. Someone was restraining his arm. He tried his other hand, but that was held as well.
    At first, all John saw was the uniform.
    Police.
    He looked down at Winston's battered face. The guy's eyes were shut, his jaw slack. John's brain slowed down into something like normal thought. Shit! He was in trouble now.
    He looked up at the cop.
    Who wasn't a cop. The man was wearing a campus sanitation uniform. John stared into the ugly face of Trashcan Harry. Not a cop. Just Trashcan. Nobody important.
    Trashcan Harry was a custodian on campus, and his nickname was as much for his odor as his job. He was a hairy old prole who made Winston look, thin and anemic. Harry's nose had met somebody's fist too many times and his ears had been on the receiving end of cosmetic surgery performed by a blind butcher. He had an odd accent as thick as Winston's head, and was the butt of more campus humor than John could recall. But Trashcan's grip wasn't funny; John thought he could feel his wrist bones grating together.
    Finally