Iver takes a deep breath as soon as he leaves Asgard and instantly feels better for it. Cleaner, too, now that he thinks about it, even though the summer night is still humid.
He tries to look inconspicuous, desperate to avoid meeting anyone he knows on his way out of a club no one can claim is selling anything other than fantasies and orgasms. He decides to head home. Right now the thought of crashing with a cold beer in front of the television is more tantalising than a night-time visit to Nora’s.
Iver crosses Bogstadveien and continues into the darkness down Josefinesgate where the tall buildings and sloping wilderness gardens with swings and sandpits are partly lit up by the full moon. He passes Josefine, where he has spent many a Tuesday night listening to live music on open-mike night when the management allows both the talented and the not-so-talented to have a go. A few hundred metres further ahead the left wall of Bislett Stadium curves towards the roundabout. Iver takes out his mobile and sends Henning a text about tonight’s small catch.
The footsteps appear out of nowhere. Heavy footsteps from boots with hard soles, but Iver doesn’t have time to turn around before he feels an iron grip on his neck. He can’t move his head as he is dragged into a yard and brutally thrown on the ground. He can feel shingle under his body, crunchy sharp pebbles, his legs dig into them as they kick out, but it doesn’t get him anywhere. He is flipped on to his back as if he weighs nothing at all. His eyes close instinctively when a fist comes hurtling towards his face. He hears it make contact, feels his jaw and cheek give and everything starts to throb. The blows rain down on him with a speed that takes his breath away. The back of his eyes begin to sting, a pricking light appears and he hears nothing, he feels only intense pain.
The blood is running from his mouth and mingles with saliva and tears. Iver tries to raise his arms to protect himself, but they refuse to obey and fail to ward off the blows landing on him. Soon he no longer feels the pounding, the punches simply make contact and fling his head from side to side. But he is able to think that if this assault doesn’t stop soon, the ending will be terribly, terribly bad.