Another Irish lad
fell before One-Line’s onslaught, then he was caught up in the melee where
Sowerbutt’s men were coshing Irishmen and exchanging punches. One of
Spaghetti’s cousins was facing down a burly Irishman with his Frosolone
flick-knife, opening and closing the razor-sharp blade; the Irishman
mesmerised. The cousin jabbed at the big man, slashing his jacket. With a
shout, the Irishman swung his fist, dropping to his knees and staring at his
bloody arm in disbelief where a second lightning-fast lunge had left its mark.
The cousin wiped his blade on the stunned man’s jacket, pushed him over and
turned back to the fight.
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