In the ring, a tall, thin middle-aged man punched the air, occasionally hissing like a rattlesnake. When he saw Gordon climb into the ring, he took a towel handed up from ringside and wiped away his sweat.
"Come on, James. I've waited a long time for this day. I'll repay yesterday's suffering twice over!"
As he spoke, the man lifted his tank top and pointed at the bullet scar on his waist.
"This is the medal you branded me with. I've been looking forward to seeing you again!"
Gordon narrowed his eyes and studied him. This man had punched him in the face when he first arrived in prison and overturned his tray at every dinner. He had guessed the man held a grudge against him, but he simply couldn't remember where they had met.
"Sorry, who are you?"
Gordon's words struck the tall, thin man like a heavy blow, and his face turned deathly pale amid the surrounding prisoners' laughter.
"You actually don't remember me-you must be-you must be lying! Ah! That's right, you're trying to undermine me, shake my resolve, so you might escape me alive!
"James, you despicable bastard!"
Just then, the bell rang, and the man charged at Gordon with a furious roar.
His momentum was imposing, his footwork nimble and elusive. Judging by the two punches he had thrown before the fight, Gordon guessed he might be an underground boxer.
He had indeed busted an underground boxing operation shortly after joining the GCPD, but the criminals had put up fierce resistance that day, forcing him to shoot and wound several of them.
Which of those wounded men was this one?
Still pondering, Gordon dodged the tall, thin man's rear hook, slipped to his side, and aimed for his kidney.
Bam!!
One clean blow dropped his