@@DESCRIPT="A Knockout Deal by Jack Flack"

  "Crack!"  The left hook stunned his opponent, and the straight right to the
jaw nearly knocked him out of the ring.  Decker held his hands up in a V for
victory, and the referee had to push him to a neutral corner.  Unfortunately,
his nemesis was saved by the bell, and cornermen rushed to the ring to drag
their boxer back to a stool, to perform their magic inbetween rounds.
  "What the hell are you doing Decker!" his manager screamed.  "This guy
woulda already been outta here if you had moved to a neutral corner in the
first damn place!" he shouted as one of the helpers splashed water in
Decker's face.
  "He's outta here this round - count on it," Decker said, and the bell rang,
bringing the boxers to round three.
  Decker's opponent never saw what hit him.  Still dazed from the previous
round, the young boxer walked into a right cross that seemed to knock him
into next week.  Decker, confident in victory, walked to the neutral corner
and climbed on the rope. profressing victory to all.
  If there were 10,000 people watching the fight that night, 9,999 of them
saw only three people in the ring that night; Decker, his opponent, and the
referee.  But Decker saw his partner in crime in there with him, once again.
The dark, shady character seemed to materialize within the ring as the young
boxer hit the canvis, and as the doctors gathered around the young man and
tried to save his life, the Shadow of Death had already sucked the life out
of the man in front of everyone.

  Decker fought hard and partied harder.  The alcohol had gone to his head
for sure that night, and Decker went to sit in his car while his mind cleared
up.  While sitting there, the spirit materialized once again, ready to make
another deal.
  "I don't know why you keep coming around," Decker said, as though talking
to a demon were nothing out of the ordinary.  Actually, by this time, it
really wasn't. "You know we have a deal."
  "And I intend to make sure that the deal is still good," the smoke like
character answered.  His outline was like that of a man, but the edges were
like smoke, wavering in and out, making his details hard to make out.  His
eyes were solid white, and seemed equally able to look directly into souls as
well as steal them.  "You knock 'em out, and I get the soul - fair enough,
don't you think?" he said wryly.  Decker thought he could almost make out a
sly grin on the demon's face, or at least where a face should be. "I helped
you out in the ring when you needed it, and you agreed to this."
  "But what should happen if I don't knock a guy out?" Decker asked, semi-
sober now from the conversation.
  "I came through with my end of the bargin - you had damn well better make
sure you come through with yours," he said, as he began to dematerialize,
leaving as he came - in mystery.

  Decker again dreamed of the night he had met the demon, a dream he often
had after drinking.  It had been a long and bloody fight, and in the next to
last round, it was obvious that Decker needed a knockout to pull off a win.
Suddenly, it seemed that the lights dimmed, the voices drowned out and became
a quiet, constant buzz, and in front of him stood the most confusing thing he
had ever seen before.  "Decker," the image said.  "You need me, I need you.
I need his soul to remain here, and you need a win.  Knock him out for me,
and I'll do the rest."
  "I don't have the strength," Decker said under his breath to the apparition
in front of him.
  "I can help, but you'll owe me," the spirit said.  It takes a lot of energy
for a spirit to physically affect our world, and the ghoul would need
several souls to make up for the expended energy.  "Promise me 5 souls in a
row, and I'll help you out."
  The bell rang to begin the round.
  "Promise me!" the demon screamed.
  "I promise," Decker said under his breath.
  The punch that connected was nothing really, not much more than a push in
the face, it seemed.  But yet, his opponent flew across the length of the
squared circle and through the ropes, out onto the floor.  The official
cause of death was a head wound caused by hitting the concrete, but as
Decker stood in the middle of the ring, he saw the soul sucker on top of
the corpse laying in the floor, sucking the life out of his victim.

  Decker woke up in his car, the sun coming up and the keys still dangling
from the ignition.  He thought of ways to get out of the deal, but he feared
the worst.  The guilt was eating him alive, and yet, the fear kept him in
line.  Decker was running out of people who would fight him - his last four
fights had ended in fatalities.  Besides the man who hit his head and the
man that Decker had killed in the ring, two other boxers suffered injuries
that put them in a coma, and proved to be fatal injuries.  The boxing
commission was talking about banning him from the sport, he felt as though
he had sold his soul, and yet, he needed one more knockout in the ring to
make everything good.

  Friday night was the main event - Decker versus Charles Smith, an up and
coming kid with a taste for blood, someone who had fought his way through the
ranks and was not afraid, but rather looking forward to fighting Decker,
knowing it could be the fight to put Smith in the limelight.
  Normally, it had become custom for the demon to show his face before a
fight.  It wouldn't always speak to Decker, but it would at least appear,
reminding Decker of their outstanding deal.  Decker needed no reminding - the
pressure was on.
  The first bell rang, and the boxers both came out, ready to stick to their
own adgendas.  Decker could jab the kid with no problem, but couldn't get any
combos to work, and was getting hit like hell with counter punches.  Decker
spent the first round trying to feel out his opponent, and he accomplished
that - he felt about 20 jabs and many more hard body shots.  Smith was fast -
there was no denying him that.
  Round two came and went, and Smith proved he knew the ring and how to move
around in it.  When Decker circled, Smith would but off the ring.  When
Decker held Smith, Smith would attack from the inside.  When he moved to the
outside, Smith hit quicker and harder.  Decker was running everywhere, and
getting nowhere.
  At the beginning of round three, Decker felt the butterflies coming again.
He got that feeling from time to time when he knew he was in trouble.  In
the center of the ring, Smith had a suprise waiting for him.  "POW!"  Decker
got hit with a massive uppercut that twisted his head to the side, and then
a straight right to the eye that immediately opened a cut over the eye.
Decker hit the canvis, and tried to sit up.
  "Demon!" he screamed, "I need you!"
  Suddenly, the demon appeared in front of his face.  Decker had never been
KO'ed before, but he couldn't focus his eyes, and the only sensation he had
was the slow trickle of blood now filling his eye.
  "Looks like this is it, eh Decker?" the soul sucker said, and grinned.  The
demon placed a hand on top of Decker's head, and Decker insides suddenly felt
as though they were on fire, almost turning inside out.
  "What the hell are you doing?" Decker screamed!
  "Sorry kid," the spirit said, "Smith made me a better deal."
  Decker immediately seemed to go into convulsions.  The referee stopped the
fight immediately, and the doctors rushed the ring with their equipment.
  Smith just smiled.



