554 - (FREE TO READ) Liver Eating Johnson vs Carl Cestari
James Lafond and Jeth's novel serialisation: Paul Vunak of Antares continues with Chapter 12 - "Naked Fray"!
Copyright 2025 LaFond & Randolph
A Casting Darts Publishing Original
Written by James LaFond & Jeth Randolph
Martial arts maestro Paul Vunak leads “The Dirty Dozen you always wanted” against an opposing team lead by non other than Bruce Lee!
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Click to read Chapter one: “Like Water”
Click to read Chapter two: “Stardust Express”
Click to read Chapter three, part one: “The Galactic Fix is In”
Click to read Chapter three, part two: “Charon’s Song”
Click to read Chapter three, part three: “Best and the Blessed”
Click to read Chapter four: “The Dawning Of A New Sun”
Click to read Chapter five, Part one: “Upon the Scales of Right”
Click to read Chapter 5 (Part 2): “Where’s Charlie?”
Click to read Chapter 6: “自由”
Click to read Chapter 7: “Knives Of Scorpio”
Click to read Chapter 8: “Flags Of Scorpio”
Click to read Chapter 9: “Champions Of Scorpio”
Click to read Chapter 10: “Bloody Scorpio”
Click to read Chapter 11: “Fists Of Scorpio”
Naked Fray / Vunak Of Antares #12
Afternoon: Each team advances a man for unarmed combat to the death, chosen by lot.
The huge hand withdrew from the bag that Vunak held out. The meaty fist slowly opened to show the dyed blue human finger bone within it’s grasp.
“OK John, you’re up to fight Cestari”
Vunak passed the bag of bones made of indeterminate hide to Burton who stood at his side.
John Johnson stood before him, or rather, at six feet and two inches and two hundred and forty pounds, above him, looking down with expressionless eyes.
“You’re fighting hand to hand, no weapons John”
“I ain’t never killed a white man b’fer” said John, pausing as the words seemed to emanate from his heavily bearded face, only a trace of lip movement showing under the pronounced moustaches, before continuing;
“...not even a Frenchie.”
“John, you killed three hundred men and boys back on earth, it won’t be any different”, reassured Vunak.
“But them was Crows that took my Swan and our child fro’ me ‘n’ they had it comin’ as I see it, well...saw it. We made up ‘n’ all after”.
Burton glanced at Thompson, who sat nearby watching, who then stood and walked to join Vunak, before speaking in a quiet, slow and considered way;
“John brother, this guy’s a master of far eastern fighting, don’t know if you ever came across that in your time? He’s been inside too, he’ll be a handful.”
“Ah, they all got some kind o’ tale t’ spook ya wit’… ‘fer they feed the vultures anyways”
The unmoving eyes of Johnson, stared blankly at his team mates.
Vunak stepped in, “Well quite, ah… yes John. He’ll have a strong guard and will be hard to just rush in on. Stay back and let him come to you, then try and get him down. He’s a master of Karate, Kempo, Judo, Combatives and old style Jui jitsu – that’s a lot of stand up, so try and use the Brazilian way of getting him down and …”
“I don’t know what none of them fancy words mean Sir, reckon I’ll just take care o’ him, and meet ya back here. That sound OK?”
The eyes of Burton and Thompson met, and they both looked to the floor hiding smiles as Vunak looked up at the mountain man and continued;
“That.. that’s fine John”.
The Crow Killer turned and hammered on the the gate, “C’mon fellas, ay’s fixin’ to come out, open up will ya?”
The metallic shriek that signalled the presence of death, shattered the air and the steel door raised. Johnson lowered his head slightly under it, as it still rose, and strode out, his wild hair and beard blown by the warm breeze, and his dead eyes narrowed as grains of living sand whipped them. He walked past the arena wall, inscribed with the names of his fallen fellow fighters; Johnson, LaFond and Bronson and then, as if immune to the din, he sniffed the air for his adversary as Charon urged the crowd to new heights of anticipation. The pipes sounded out a slow heartbeat of tribal drums and low mournful singing of the Crow tribe:
“Brothers and sisters beneath the gaze of the most mighty Lords, listen to the Baasáaxxuua rhythm as it brings forth the whispers of our ancestors! Today, beneath the sky, we gather to witness a battle. From the distant white man's land, we see Johnson, a warrior whose name is carried by the wind, telling dark tales of vengeance against the People of the Crow.
This man, whose hair mirrors the snow of winter, and whose eyes burn like the two fierce suns, has known great sorrow. His spirit, once in harmony with the earth, was tempered by the loss of his woman and child at the hands of our braves. Known as "Liver Eater," for the acts of great terror with which he disgraced so many of our kind, he stands here, not with the tomahawk or bow of a warrior, but with nothing but his own flesh and blood.
He comes, as in mountain life, ready to fight as nature intended, with bare hands. His weapons are his fists, hardened by the wild, and his heart, toughened by grief and survival.
Can this man, whose soul dances with the untamed spirit of the land, triumph over the pale skinned Red warrior Cestari, a white man skilled in the fighting arts of tribes far away? Will the raw power of his life's trials give him the strength to overcome, or will the spirits of this place turn their backs on him?
May the Great Spirit watch over this combat, and let us observe, let us learn, let us see if the wisdom of the crow, ever observant, ever wise, will guide this former enemy of our people to death or victory. For this day, the heart of a true warrior will be put to the ultimate test or held, still living, aloft!
Vunak took advantage of the applause to lean to Burton and ask;
“I thought Johnson was in his seventies when he died? I remember seeing a documentary about old West mountain men. The John Johnson out there looks about fifty. How old were you when you died Rich?”
“Well, Mr Vunak , I was 69 years old.” Replied the Englishman.
“Michael, what about you?”
“In my eighties.” Thompson stated quietly.
“Neither of you look that age. Mike you’re in your fifties and Rich, you’re in your forties. How come I’m still sixty five?”
Thompson spoke slowly; “It’s just ‘The Fix’ Paul. We’re playthings for the evil spirits of this place, just like back home. We serve our purpose in a way that pleases them, nothing more. They allow us just enough life force to still fight for them, but not enough to be against them. They get a better show to feed upon before we’re supposed to die, but the odds stay against us. They seem to be trying to limit your athleticism against your skill, like they did with Jack. Did you see how much younger Red Team seems?”.
Vunak nodded slowly and then, brightening slightly, turned and said, “Well they forgot one thing Mike,‘Youth and enthusiasm is no match for age and treachery’!”
The men of Blue Team roared with laughter, and then turned to call out support to their brother fighter as he stood waiting for Cestari to make his entrance.
Charon bowed to the top levels of the arena, and then began to impersonate traffic noises, the honking of horns and police sirens as Cestari, seemingly in his late thirties, heavily built and dressed fully in black, wearing combat boots, walked straight from the Red Gate across the sands, ignoring the crowds and Charon, his eyes fixed upon Johnson.
He stopped at his mark across from his opponent, silent and stone faced.
Charon began in a thick Bronx accent;
“A’right, listen up, folks! We got ourselves a real deal here, straight outta the mean streets of New York! I present to ya, Carl Cestari, the kinda guy ya don't wanna mess with in a dark alley!
Cestari's a tough cookie, started mixin’ it up when he was just a kid in judo class. But lemme tell ya, he's not just some fancy martial artist; he's been through the grinder. Served time, ya 'know, five years in the can for a tragic mistake, accidentally clipped a brother in blue, Gods rest his soul. But that didn't break him, no sir, it just made him tougher.”
The New Yorker’s gaze dipped for just a second and then refocused, with renewed coldness.
“Now, he's steppin' into this here arena with nothin' but his bare knuckles. His hands are his weapons, learned from the best, from the old school masters to the hard knocks of life on the beat.
Cestari’s seen the inside of a cell and the outside of a dojo. Can he take down The Liver Eater with just his fists? Buckle up, 'cause ya're about to see a fight where it ain't about the steel, it's about the spirit, see? Give it up for Carl Cestari, ex-cop, ex-convict, master of unarmed combat, and now, gladiator!
Will old school street smarts, martial arts, and New York grit give him the edge in this bloody face-off? Well, ‘Welcome to Fear City’ ‘cause ya’re about ta find out!”
Round one…of one.
The countdown ended, and at the command to fight, and contrary to Vunak’s advice, The Crow Killer screamed and ran forward to Cestari. He’d killed a Sioux brave in this way in his previous life, just flattened him with his weight as he’d rushed in, smashing him against the ground, and that’s what he was fixing to do right now, but he saw the man’s hand fly out and attempted to turn his head just as there was an explosion in his left eye. It seemed momentarily like a huge shower of sparks from a popping log fire had filled the world, and his vision became oddly doubled as his head was driven back.
Cestari had gotten a power shot with a left hand finger jab straight to the huge man’s eye socket as he charged forward. Johnson’s head turn counter had failed, and the first and second fingers of Cestari tore deep into Johnson’s left eye socket, entering at an angle, and scoring cruelly behind the eyeball.
At the Red Corner, Lee reacted to the roar of the crowd; ‘Yes Carl! Beautiful Biu Jee!!!’
Then his faced dropped, and he struggled to hide his revulsion as Johnson turned his head, to show his left eye dangling upon his cheek. It swung, left and right as the men continued to struggle.
Vunak gripped the gate.
‘Ah, fuck no! This is the beginning of the end!’
‘Get it together Vu!’ He scolded himself and yelled,
“COME ON JOHN!”
The Crow Killer seemed to be in an altered state of rage, and seemingly not registering fully the severity of the injury he’d received. He clawed his way forward towards the shocked New Yorker, screaming as he pulled him inwards, and sank his teeth into Cestari’s right cheek as he powerfully dragged the man towards him so that Cestari, felt as though he was fighting not a man but a deranged grizzly. In terrible proximity he saw Johnson’s remaining eye, and caught a glimpse of the deathlike cold gleam within it.
The huge frame of Johnson unbalanced his rival, who was staggering backward with the gnashing teeth lacerating into his face and a frenzied, animalistic sound could be heard.
Cestari drove his crooked hand to the wild man's face, fish-hooking the left of his mouth and pushing away in an attempt to detach the deep bite, and stop the agonising damage to his face.
Johnson had the over-hook with his left arm and rammed his huge, brawny hand, upward and inward to seize the windpipe of Cestari, as he began to crush it with all his inhuman might.
Cestari desperately tried to pull his throat from the grasp in vain, abandoned the tearing fish hook, and tried to reach over to claw at the remaining right eye of his adversary, but the man’s wild haired head was huge!
Johnson deepened his crushing grip on the other man’s throat as though his thumb and fingers would meet somewhere within the flesh, his only thoughts being of utter destruction.
A terrible stalemate then developed as one man, his throat crushed and his breath rasping, desperately tried again and again to break free of the other’s savage grip. The latter biting and seemingly determined to literally devour his foe as prey.
The two pivoted and staggered like some terrible dancing couple .
Johnson steadied his footing and then, raising his right foot, brought it down with terrible suddenness. A snapping sound was heard from the bones of Cestari’s left foot as they buckled and snapped under the awesome assault.
“UUUnnnngghhhh-tthhhssss!!” hissed Cestari through his now completely crushed windpipe, his vision blacking as the hairy brute that was upon him closed in unbearably close with a wily ferocity, and began to tear downwards now at his throat with his teeth, gnawing like some gigantic, insane rat.
‘Holy – fucking – Kinamutay!!’ screamed Vunak’s mind, as his mouth struggled to form words at the hideous scarlet spectacle.
Blood jetted like a fountain from the severed jugular artery and a flap of skin was seen detaching from the now dying man’s neck as The Liver Eater continued to bite and twist his head.
Above the shrieking of the crowd, Charon bellowed angrily;
“No! Only the Gods may feast upon The Fallen!!”
The sands rose up around the two men, forming eight figures that solidified to become guards who tore Johnson from his prey. He struggled and tried to shake loose from the crystalline hands that seized him, his wild beard soaked red with blood and gore, and his head violently turning from side to side as the limp Cestari fell like a rag doll without a sound except the hiss of his escaping final breath.
Johnson turned his head to face the fallen adversary and his remaining eye sparkled with hatred as the fallen man’s gaze turned to lifeless glass, and Johnson knew that his last sight and thought would be the knowledge that he fell to Dapiek Absaroka – The Crow Killer.
A short while later, having returned to the Blue Gate, Johnson was recovering. His useless left eye was now reseated in it’s socket by Thompson and he was getting used to the new eye patch that Teach had fashioned for him.
Thompson asked Johnson, “How’s the pain after the fix up, John?”
“Reckon it’s no worse than that winter I spent inna cave with a mountain lion and a bear!”
Johnson then nodded to Vunak, pointed to the patch and said quietly, “The Californy fella, says it’s looks good, you fellas reckon it’s OK?”
Teach laughed out loud, “Haha! Looks right fine mate! What say ye Mike? Will ‘e set ‘earts a flutterin’ next time we ‘eads inta town?”
“It’s a fine look, John”, responded Thompson and began laughing.
Vunak addressed the men;
“We’ve killed seven of their men, SEVEN! They’ve only got five of their sorry asses left to our ten – not counting that Limey cornerman, haha! We’ve now got a serious shot at victory here guys. This crew is the best one this side of the galaxy! Team Blue!!!”
He raised his fist as the men responded in unison:
“TEAM VU!!”
Continued next week!
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Notes
Jeth: On a personal note, the cruel blue dice of chance, that decided all events was indeed unkind to Mr Cestari in this work of fiction while James and I worked on it. Through my own struggles and limitations with health I can relate and have respect for his life and work despite a failing body.
I would like to add these words written by Cestari and sent to his students in 2004 :
“Man proposes.............God disposes
So here I sit waiting for the plumber to arrive and replace my hot water heater. That was my "wonderful" Christmas surprise! A basement full of water and a useless hot water heater, ON a holiday weekend no less. Thank you very much..................... Could be worse I guess, at least my loved ones and I weren't swept out to sea by a Tsunami........................... Another year out of life's journey is coming to a close. 365 "chances" to DO SOMETHING besides simply drawing closer to the boneyard. What have YOU done with your THREE HUNDRED and SIXTY FIVE individual chances?
Are you BETTER for the experiences of this past year? Or have you just tread water? Have you climbed out of a rut? At least attempted to do so? Or have you allowed yourself to be dug in DEEPER? Are you content with your lot? Have you pushed yourself in some REGARD, in some way, shape or form? Have you learned something, ANYTHING of value? Are you "better" NOW than you were a YEAR ago on this date? Give some thought to these things this week as we draw a close to another "year of life". It will ALL be used up and GONE before you know it. Or want it to be. A year from NOW these same questions will be asked, they will still be there. The only difference being that ANOTHER year will have slipped thru your fingers. Will you be "better" then?
Or just ANOTHER year older? Edited by: C Cestari at: 12/27/04 9:11 am”