Jack, Story of a Young Fighter P2

I can do this.

Steam fogged the sides of the mirror, but did not distort the image.

I can’t be afraid.

He saw himself, in a old beaten undershirt he loved, and a pair of red gloves. 

Fear is the mind killer…

He knew he shouldn’t be afraid, they never were. 

I must not, I will not fear….

He was different now, a far cry from the boy who was picked on and beaten. 

I accepted this fight, and now I must finish it. 

Much had changed since that day, far more than just his now full and seasoned face. 

I am strong, I am a man.

By chance or pure luck, a pair of brothers had passed by and heard the ruckus of a fight. When they checked to see, they found Jack lying there, assaulted and cowardly beaten. 

I won’t disappoint them. 

The brothers had done more than just helped him that day, they saved his life. 

This fight is for them, and I will not lose it. 

They took in a worthless skinny boy fixed him up, trained him and gave him purpose. 

I will do this.

They had taken a boy, and turned him into a man. 

I WILL DO THIS!

Jack pounded his gloves hard as his reflect seemingly nodded in approval. Today would not be a loss, but the coming of age of a new fighter.

The two opponents, ready and eager for their own reasons, stood at opposite sides of the ring.

What you did to me was wrong, was cowardly. 

This was not the first two the two had met, but it would be their last. 

I can still remember what you did…

In one corner was Jack, reborn in the fires of combat. 

I still hurt from it, but it’s no longer shame but a source of strength. 

In the other, the biggest of the bullies that so cowardly beat Jack that day. 

I will face my fear and let it pass threw me. 

The two brother, and owners of the gym, Celtic and Dante nodded in approval. Proud how far he had come, proud of how much Jack had grew, proud that he was facing his fears. 

I will do more than that.

The man, the cowardly bully, smirked in his direction and flexed his muscle hard. His face clearly said this wasn’t going to be a fight, but a one sided beating from hell.

You wish.

Jack did not care; he had stepped into the ring, and planned to collect on a debt. 

They tought me to be proud of me, for me, I don’t need him or his respect. 

The bully continued to glare, he continued to try and intimidate, but it would not work…. Not today.

All I want from you, is you knocked out on the canvas below me. 

The bell rang, and now, nothing else matter.

 

They met in the center, and quickly squared off. Jack would show that he fought with his head, while the bully… did not. 

Your mistake, my advantage. 

The bully would come out strong, throwing punches with the force of a truck. But he would swing widely, seemingly without rhyme or reason. 

Definitely your mistake. 

Jack would weave and dodge the punches, experiencing a new rush with each success. 

He can’t touch me!

Jack would take pride in this, even in such a short amount of time. But he couldn’t get ahead of himself…

Pride loses matches. 

He would learn that again, for they say even a broken clock is right twice a day, and even a untrained raging fighter will hit something. 

Fuck!

In a moment of distraction, Jack would suffer a mean left right hook combo to the face, cutting his lip and shaking his head. With his vision blurred for a moment, his chin would explode in pain and his head snapped back hard. 

Get your head back in the game!

A memory flashed, he was back in the ally way, being surrounded by the bullies.

UGH! No not now!

Again distracted, Jack would stumble back from an uppercut to the stomach. Unflexed and unprotected, the hit took its toll. He would grunt and double over, wanting to throw up. 

FOCUS!

He stumbled, but rose again. His body was hurt, but his will was strong. His guard went up, just in time to block another series of jabs, but still pushing him back from the force of the blow.

I have to remember what they taught me, act but use your head!

The bully came again, swinging with hell behind him. Swinging hard… and high. 

Yes.

Jack ducked down and slammed a hard glove into the bully’s stomach…

The first of many payments.

Shocked rippled in the bully, as his abs distorted from the sudden blow. 

Now go for it!

Jack capitalized on this, and continued with a series of furious and rapid jabs to the man stomach. Each hitting hard, each hitting its mark.

How does it feel!

The bully coughed and groaned with each hit, tipping over from the assault. 

Don’t let up, stay hungry!

Groans turned to moans as the bullies core turned several shades of red. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

With a furious cry, one from the pits of his soul, Jack struck out, throwing a jab at the bullies head.

EAT THIS!

It connected with a loud thud, shaking end echoing threw out the gym. Blood dripped from the bullies’ eye as he stumbled back dazed and dumb.

This is for the boy you beat….

A left hook, a right jab, an uppercut that snapped the bullies head back. This and more would came with Jack showing no mercy, no regret, and no letting up.

This is for the boy you humiliated! 

A hard right to the ribs that made the man cry out, another uppercut that almost knocked the mouth guard out, a series of jabs that cut deep and bleed the bullies eye….

As the bully tried to hold up his gloves, tried to form some guard, he wobbled around like a drunken idiot. Jack lined up his final shot. Today, he would do he and his proud. 

This is for the boy who became a better man than you. 

The hit was swift, powerful, and on mark. Like a truck born from the deepest pits of hell and driven by the spirit of vengeance itself, the blow took the bully square center of his stomach. The bully’s groan was long, then he simply fell to his knees and was out. The count was over as soon as it began.

The crowd went wild.

A fighter had come of age. 

Jack saw the joy, pride, and admiration of Celtic and Dante. 

He had earned much respect today, but more importantly, he had earned respect for himself.