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#Post#: 1493--------------------------------------------------
A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 1 - Knockout from the Inside
By: RampageSports Date: May 12, 2015, 10:36 pm
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Author's Note: Once again, I'm going to try a little gimmick
here, because I fancy myself as some sort of professional
writer. Worry not... deep down I'm aware that I'm just an
amateur screwing around on an internet forum. So, I'm not
insane. ;)
Well, okay... maybe I am insane, but this is not conclusive
evidence of such. :P
Anyway... the first two chapters of this story are designed to
be almost all internal monologue. That's the reason for all the
italics. The catch is that you're not going to know for sure
who's doing the monologuing in either chapter (that's also the
reason there's no Character Reference section). If you're
familiar with my earlier stuff and with recent UMMA events, then
the identities are not any great mystery. But, I tried to write
these chapters so that it really doesn't matter. It's just
background for the aftermath that starts in Chapter 3. At that
point, the storytelling will switch permanently to Richelle's
point of view, and you'll know for sure who everybody is. :D
[hr]
A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 1 - Knockout from the Inside
July 15, 1999 - The Old Warehouse - Trenton, NJ
Lucky number thirteen.
Tonight is my thirteenth fight here at The Old Warehouse. For
the record, the simplistic name was not produced by some sudden
bolt of creativity. The building is an old, abandoned warehouse
on Stark Street*, in an old, abandoned area of Trenton. It is a
massive brick structure... a remnant of a long-defunct rail
freight operation. Large, window-shaped openings appear on all
four sides, but the glass was removed decades ago... the
openings bricked over. At some point, someone got the idea to
paint the building yellow. That would have been bad enough, but
years of neglect had caused the paint to peel... revealing large
swaths of the faded brick beneath. The end result looks like a
giant block of ancient, moldy cheese. In most circumstances, it
would be a hideous eyesore. But, here... it fits perfectly into
its surroundings.
The inside is a different story. Most of the space has been
converted into a nightclub-type environment, with full bars in
two of the corners. Tables and chairs are arranged in ever
tightening rings around the center of the space. In that center
is where the main attraction can be found... the feature that
says this is not a dance club. It is a place where people come
to watch human beings try to kill each other, purely for their
amusement. A place where they wager sizable amounts of money on
who will emerge victorious, and who will be left beaten and
bleeding on the cold cement.
That central feature is a spartan fighting ring. A ring with no
canvas or padding of any kind. It is a square patch of
concrete, the corners marked by steel posts protruding from the
slab. The space is enclosed by three thick, braided manila
ropes, similar to the type used for fishing nets and anchor
lines for ships. It is a ring that clearly says no fear, no
rules and no mercy.
Why would someone fight in a place like this? Most of the time,
the answer is money, meager as the sums may be. Though there's
plenty of money flowing around the ring, very little of it ends
up in the fighters' pockets. Still... meager is better than
nothing. For many, it's all they have.
There are a select few, however, who fight here because they
want to. They love to fight. They love the adrenaline rush of
risking everything. The feeling of power that comes from
proving you are the better fighter. It is, in many ways, an
addiction. An addiction that must be fed.
I know, because I am one of those people.
With victories in all of my fights to date, I'm making something
of a name for myself. That's why this fight is so important.
Tonight's opponent is an established fighter with years of
experience. Though she hasn't had a ton of success, she's had a
lot more than I have. She represents a chance for me to prove
myself against a higher class of competition.
There is no ref here. No rounds. No rules. We fight until one
of us falls and doesn't get up. There is a man who will
announce our names, and then declare that the fight has started.
He will do this from outside the ring, a safe distance from
where the carnage will take place. In the end, he will enter
the ring and raise the hand of the winner, stepping over the
loser's broken body if he has to.
It is not a demanding or highly technical position.
I stand in one corner of the ring, flexing my fingers as they
protrude from my taped fists. My attire is simple... a pair of
light colored yoga pants and a black sports bra. My long red
hair is tied back in it's customary ponytail. My darker skinned
opponent is dressed in nearly identical fashion... her pants are
black in color, while her tight-fitting top is orange. Her jet
black hair is cut short, hanging about halfway down her neck.
The fight begins and we circle each other patiently, looking for
an opening. Her form is excellent, her guard up and tight as
she peeks out at me over the top of her fists. My posture
mirrors hers, because I know this is the best way to defend
myself. I also know the jab is my most important weapon. It is
useful for probing an opponents defenses and setting up other
strikes. It is also one of my most effective defensive
mechanisms... it's quickness and directness perfect for backing
an opponent up when I'm in trouble. Lastly, I know that
movement is key. Staying active and unpredictable will open up
avenues of attack that I can exploit, and keep my opponent
guessing.
This is the extent of my fighting knowledge. My style is to
keep things simple and hit hard. It has been extremely
effective, so far.
The first exchange of the fight starts when I throw a few jabs
to break the ice. She guards them and responds with a short
right hook I lean away to avoid... her taped fist whipping past
the tip of my nose. I throw a hook of my own, looking to take
advantage while she's out of position, but she dances back and
out of range.
My first impression is that she is easily the quickest opponent
I've faced.
We close again and jab almost simultaneously. Though I have a
slightly longer reach, her punch somehow connects first...
snapping my head back sharply. I instantly retreat, but not
before a straight right connects in nearly the same spot.
My first impression was right. Her speed is going to be an
issue.
I eye her warily, recognizing how much better she is than the
others I've faced.
Again, we close... this time she strikes first with the jab. I
block it easily and stay focused on her hands. As she throws
the right, I slip left slightly... letting the punch pass over
my right shoulder. This opens up her left side, and I score
with a left over top of her outstretched arm, then pivot low and
punish her with a right hook to the center of her abdomen.
She jabs me away as she backpedals. I reset my guard and
continue to attack, pressing her toward the corner. At the last
second, she jabs me off and escapes along the ropes. The move
is so quick and fluid that I don't even recognize the danger I'm
in. I turn to follow, and she comes off the ropes with a short
left hook that pounds into my side. I continue to turn to keep
her in front of me, and suddenly I'm the one trapped in the
corner. She leads with the jab, then follows with the right. I
manage to block both, but I'm too slow to stop her left from
sinking into my side again. I try to jab and escape to my left,
but she cuts me off with a straight right, then pushes me with
both hands. The cold steel of the unpadded corner support bites
into skin of my back as she continues to work. A jab-right
combo scores before I'm able to set my guard. I get my my hands
up, and she works her arms inside mine and latches her hands
behind my neck. She's stronger than I realize and she easily
controls me as she fires a series of knee strikes to my
unprotected body. I bring my arms down to block and stop the
assault, and she goes back to her fists... setting me up with
the jab before ripping into me with a right hook that rattles me
badly. She hits me with another one-two as I try to pull myself
together. Seeing her chance she steps back and launches a kick
that would have finished me had I not gotten my hands up at the
last second. I block the kick high, which throws her off
balance. As she regroups, I get the hell out of the corner.
I took a lot of punishment for my stupid mistake. I can already
feel the way the damage is starting to accumulate on me. The
area around my right eye is beginning to swell... a product of
that last hook. A burning sensation above the eye leads me to
think she may have opened up a cut there, as well.
So far, the only thing I've proven is that I'm not as good as I
think I am.
She closes on me confidently. As soon as she's in range, I
throw the jab to back her off. She pushes it aside and smacks
me with a jab of her own. I try to buy space but she stays with
me. I jab as I circle, wary of being pushed to the corner
again. She pursues me relentlessly, the timing of her jabs and
movement seemingly perfect. Nothing I do seems to have any
effect. She just wades through my defenses, scoring at will
with that lethal left hand. I focus on her movements, hoping to
discover some flaw I can use to my advantage. This causes me to
lose track of my position in the ring. Her constant jabbing
forces me to circle wider and wider, and she has me in the
corner again in less than half a minute.
With my movement stymied, the pounding resumes in earnest.
Fists and knees hammer into me as I try to cover up and get
free. She tries to force her hand behind my neck again, but I
lock my fingers into hers to stop her. Without a moment's
hesitation, she guides my hand aside and drives her elbow into
my face. The cut above my eye is bleeding profusely. Between
that and the swelling, I can barely see. Her jab lands again.
I look for the right by default, but she pulls back the jab and
nails me with a hook using the same hand. I begin to falter,
but she pushes me back into the corner. The knees come again...
I block weakly but it has little effect. Finally she backs away
and leaves me to slide down the post and sink to the concrete
below.
This is not a boxing or kickboxing match. There is no reason
for her to stop just because I'm down. It's an all-out brawl,
and she's free to keep kicking the crap out of me until I'm
finished. Only she doesn't. She leaves me there, broken and
bleeding, and starts to play to the crowd. She whips them into
a frenzy as they delight in my suffering. My body is wracked
with pain and my brain is scrambled. Her words don't register,
but I don't need to hear her to figure out what she's saying.
She's saying, "Look at this pathetic loser. The new girl who
thought she was good enough. This pitiful piece of sh*t that I
have destroyed in just a few minutes."
After she plays the conquering hero for a while, she walks to
the center of the ring and looks at me with disgust. Then, she
extends her right hand, palm up, and crooks her finger at me.
I still can't hear what she's saying, but I get the message just
the same.
"Come here, little girl. Come here so I can hurt you some
more."
The sight makes me furious, and I force myself to my feet.
I have one weapon left in the bag, and it's my most reliable
one.
Pure, concentrated rage.
I bring my guard up and advance slowly out to face her. We
start to circle, and I watch her carefully... waiting for the
moment. She jabs to see what I have left, and that's my cue. I
slap her punch wide and charge at her like a raging bull. I
catch her off guard, and she struggles to keep her balance.
This works in my favor, as she continues to stumble and
flounder, allowing me to freight train her all the way to the
corner. She hits the steel post, and I come up swinging like a
crazy person. I hit her with three huge looping punches before
she gets her feet under her. She tries to push me back, but I
don't budge. She brings her guard up, so I attack her body. As
soon as her guard starts to come back down, I move to the head
and two more punches land before she adjusts. The last one
shook her badly, and I know it's now or never. I hit her with
three more solid shots as she sinks back into the corner. Then,
just as I think I may have pulled off a miracle, she plants her
right foot in my chest and launches me onto my ass near the
center of the ring.
I stand up immediately, but I'm exhausted from my frenzied
attacks in the corner. My chest heaves as I turn to see her
upright herself, as well. She closes on me quickly, and now I'm
not the only one who's angry.
She jabs into my guard, forcing my own fists into my face. She
drives me straight back, and I know exactly what she's doing.
Too bad I'm too far gone to stop her. I put everything I had
left into that last attack. I simply don't have anything left.
As I find myself backed into the corner one last time, I know
that I've failed... that she was just too good for me.
She starts off with combinations and strategic attacks, and my
body sags against the post as she meticulously picks me apart.
She quickly realizes I'm done, and she starts to take her
time... letting the crowd enjoy my final destruction as she
lands one sadistic blow at a time.
A right hook rips my head to the left and the crowd let's out a
roar. She steps in and cups her hands behind my neck again, and
it's back to the knee strikes. One... Two... Three... Four...
everyone in the warehouse counts them out loud as she destroys
and humiliates me. The pain in my body is too intense and
widespread for me to know how hurt I am, and I begin to wonder
just how bad this is going to be... and what will be left of me
when she's done. The only thing holding me up is her weight
pressing me against the post. Tiring of the knees, she works in
close with a series of elbows that tear into my face. The
beating goes on for what feels like an eternity before she
finally relents. Using my ponytail as a handle, she slings my
beaten body into the center of the concrete square.
Then, as she soaks in the cheers from the satisfied fans, I do
what may well be the stupidest thing I've ever done in my life.
I roll onto my stomach and force myself onto all fours... as I
try to stand up.
I stay there on my hands and knees as blood drips from the tip
of my nose to the concrete below. I can't even finish standing.
I'm stuck there... practically begging for her to hit me again.
There's no way for me to fully explain what I was doing. I
just knew that laying there meant I'd lost... and I couldn't
accept that.
Eventually, some helpful members of the audience point out my
idiocy to my opponent. Her reaction is swift and severe as she
strides directly over to me and punts me like a soccer ball.
The brutal kick lands with a sickening crunch, and I know that,
even if nothing was broken before, something is now. The force
of the blow flips me onto my back, where I lay for a moment,
sprawled out and moaning.
Then, I quickly set out to beat the stupidity record I'd just
set as I roll over and start to get up, again.
I barely get my hands under me before she digs her fingers into
my hair and hauls me to my feet.
She brings her head in close to my ear, and speaks to me through
gritted teeth. To the crowd, it looks like she's antagonizing
me... letting me know what a pathetic loser I am. Only, her
words don't fit with that image.
"Now, you listen to me!" she spits. "I'm going to put you down
again, and you need to stay there! I don't want to hurt you,
anymore. So, stop being stupid, before you get yourself
killed!"
She slings me down again, and, this time, I stay there.
Something about having my opponent take mercy on me in this
brutal hellhole has sapped the last bit of resolve from my body.
The scene around me becomes nothing more than blurry chaos as I
let the pain and exhaustion finally take me into
unconsciousness.
I don't know how long I was out. When I come around, I discover
I'm back in the little changing room where my adventure had
begun. I'm alone, my battered body having been unceremoniously
dumped on the concrete floor. I try to stand, but my limbs
refuse to do what I ask them to. The pain is everywhere, and I
can barely move.
For the first time, I seriously consider that I might die.
A few minutes later, there's a quick knock and then the door
swings open. I must have rolled around some as I started to
regain consciousness, because my legs ended up extended in the
path of the door. It hits my feet as it travels, and a voice
says, "F*cking assh*les!"
There in the doorway stands my opponent.
She bends down and takes hold of my arm.
"You need to get up."
I moan and shake my head.
"I'm not asking you," she says firmly. "Unless you want to die
here, you need to get your feet under you and stand up. I can't
do this by myself."
I know she's right. She's the only help I'm going to get... the
only chance I have to survive. No matter how weak I am, just
laying here means the end of me.
That realization is all I need to force myself up.
She helps to steady me.
"Is this your stuff?"
I nod and she slings my bag over her shoulder. Then, she guides
me out to her car. She eases me in, then runs around to the
driver's seat and takes off.
As we drive, I only manage to say one word to her.
"Why?"
A moment passes before she answers.
"Because no one else was going to."
That's good enough for me.
Before long, we're parked outside the hospital emergency room.
She comes around and helps me out of the car.
"Good luck," she says as she hands me my bag. "And if you're
thinking about fighting again, get some training."
Then she gets back in the car and drives away. I would never
see her again.
Left on my own to cover the few feet of sidewalk that led to the
ER, I fail, once more. I stumble on the first step and fall
against the glass door. Not exactly the plan, but the thud my
head makes on impact is sufficient enough to bring help from
inside.
Even as they load me onto the gurney, my thoughts drift to her
final words... and I wonder where I'm going to find the training
I need.
[hr]
*The Stark Street concept is borrowed from author Janet
Evanovich and her Stephanie Plum series. To my knowledge, no
such street exists in Trenton.
#Post#: 1494--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 1 - Knockout from the Inside
By: Dragons Den Date: May 15, 2015, 7:22 pm
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Brilliant! The internal monologue style worked great. Must have
been executed with perfection. ;)
I guessed who it was quick, but I've been paying attention
throughout your 100's of previous adventures. And your
characters are properly distinct and developed characters, so
that made it easy.
I'm keen for more. Hopefully it gets happier, too! :p
Essentially, my point is... awesome work. I loved reading it.
#Post#: 1495--------------------------------------------------
Re: A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 1 - Knockout from the Inside
By: RampageSports Date: May 15, 2015, 9:29 pm
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Thank you, as always, Dragon. It's always nice to hear when
people are enjoying my stuff. And, you never let me down. ;)
Oh, but I think "100s" may be a bit of an exaggeration. :P
Figuring out who was speaking in this one was easy, but the next
one will be harder. However, you have some insider information,
so I think you'll get it quickly. We'll find out soon, because
the next chapter is going up in a few minutes. :)
Still not too much happiness, though. :-\
Thanks, again. :D
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