"Give up, man." Morrow said, slamming his fist into Golden again—the third strike in a row, each one heavier than the last.
Golden kept dodging, his movements growing more limited, his left shoulder already numb, the taste of iron filling his mouth.
"I have to hit Armand." He thought. "I need space."
He gained a few inches. Ran up the wall, three vertical steps, trying to get over Morrow.
Morrow grabbed his leg midair and hurled him down hard.
Golden crashed into the sewer water, his body slamming into it, dark water splashing upward, the stench filling his mouth along with the filthy water.
"You're underestimating me." Morrow said, walking to the edge without any hurry, without any need to hurry. "You're so focused on beating the boss you think I'm nothing, huh?"
Silence.
Golden, still sitting in the water, slowly raised one hand.
Ran it through his hair.
Stood up.
"Son of a bitch." He said. "You messed up my hair."
He looked Morrow straight in the eyes.
