Short Story: Fight Hs

Short Story: Fight Hs

It was a Saturday when we got the idea of starting a little fighting group. My group of friends were incredibly bored with absolutely nothing to do. That weekend we all had seen the new movie “Never Back Down”, and something new and mysterious sparked in each of us; we acquired some brawling gloves as soon as we left the cinema. Those cheap little black MMA gloves, were beautiful in our eyes, the gateway to a new way of life, a new existence. The fighting started innocently enough, with a little audience, little punches and little injuries. All of us had finally found our calling. We all loved to fight, we all loved the pain of the first punch, and he numbing effect of the adrenalin coursing through our bodies like hot lead. We loved every little bit of it of it.

“First one to draw blood wins,” C.J, my tall, gangly, Asian-looking friend, enforced.

We were new to this and we didn’t want anyone to go to class all messed up. We decided that rule when Pete, my short, stocky, newly found friend joined our group. I stepped up to be the first fighter. We pulled out my brand new boxing gloves that we smuggled into the school. The smell of the chemically altered fake leather stung our nostrils like acid. They were green, white and red like a Mexican flag and were the cheapest ones at Big 5 Sporting Goods, We put them on and got ready, for which we immediately started calling “strap up”.

The place we chose was behind a little shack behind the school. It was small, remote and the perfect spot where we could just go at it and experience the thrill of fighting.

“Touch gloves!” Said the injured, only real fighter there, Court Jones.”Ready GO!”

He threw the first punch followed by a small jab. The rest of that fight was just a blur. A flurry of untimed, inaccurate, powerless punches. I drew first blood as his nose turned into a rose.

“Stop, Stop, STOP!!” yelled our insignificant crowd.

Pete wiped his nose with the pleather glove, not so brand new anymore, the red liquid on the glove made him smile. After I cleaned myself up, we slipped Pete into the old school bathrooms, with little acknowledgment from the nerdy kids sitting in our way. After we got all the blood off him, we left for class. We were on top of the world, we were kings. We felt as if we owned the school. Everything that had pissed us off before now just made us laugh. The kids we didn’t like, in our minds, were scared of us. We had the need, the hunger, and the thirst. A new frustration of school, of parents and of the system had invaded our young psyches. Fighting had set us free.

After my first fight it felt as if tomorrow, a little, insignificant cockroach, tied to a steel wall couldn’t break free. Finally dawn approached and I ran over to the newly founded fight group to arrange the next fight.

“Who’s next?” I said with a smile.

“I say we find someone who isn’t in our group, and then we only fight people outside the group.” Remarked C.J.

“We would appear more like a force than just a group of retarded fighters.” I replied.

“Well we might have some difficulty finding someone who we can challenge,” laughed Court, “especially since half the guys here are little girls.”

Just as we were talking about that Dom, the kind of guy who talks a lot of shit and never backs it up, walks by cocky as hell.

“Oh hell yeah, he’s mine,” Pete exclaimed. “That bitch is going down!”

“He’s all yours.” We said in unison.

This time we chose a different spot. We got everyone to the dugout at the other end of the track, this place was perfect, it supplied us complete cover from the school cameras, an unlimited supply of exits and a cage if we wanted things to get interesting. We stuffed the Lysol™ sprayed into one bag so we would be able to make a quick getaway without losing any of the gloves, leaving no evidence.

“Strap up!” I said tossing a pair of gloves at them. “Touch gloves. If anyone goes down the fights over, if anyone says stop, then stop, no groin shots, no biting, no eye gouging, and no hits to the back of the head. If you violate any of these rules, we will stop the fight and give you one warning. If you consciously continue to violate the rules, we will stop the fight and everyone here will beat you senseless. We want a good clean fight, keep us entertained.”

“You ready?” C.J. said looking towards Pete. “Are you ready?” looking at Dom.

They gave us a brief nod, touched gloves, and began. The two soldiers with their eyes locked on each other, jolted forward, Pete with a little more experience saw Dom’s right hook before he did. Pete ducked and came back up with a mean right cross, more powerful and faster than a hook but only lands correctly when the opponents guard is down. It lands with a loud hollow thump. Dom takes a few steps back to recover but before he even knows what’s happening Pete is in his face with another cross. Again another flawless hit. It leaves Dom stunned, confused and vulnerable. With a last-ditch effort, he swings wildly, maybe landing a punch or two. Rooky mistake, that only leaves you wide open and even more disoriented. With a quick step back, Pete avoids the primal flurry and just as fast as he steps back he appears in Dom’s face once more. This time, seeing that his opponent is wounded he makes a sudden effort to finish him. A wall of fists slam Doms wounded corpse forcing him to tap.

“Peter wins!”

He was the underdog in this fight, but just as soon as that fight ended, another one began. My group had volunteered me to be next. I jump into the circle created by an ever-increasing crowd. I wait a while for someone else to step up. Laney, the short, ripped gymnast steps in the circle with me.

“Shit!” I whisper under my breath.

“OK we got another fight people. Matt vs. Laney!” Announces C.J.

We both strap up, waiting for our time of fame.

“Same rules as before kiddos,” Announces C.J. “Ready, FIGHT!”

With the experience from the fight with Pete, everything seemed to be in slow motion. It felt as if I actually had control of time. My breathing hastened as I touched gloves with my opponent. Two seconds became one, the yelling and screaming coming from the circle slowly subsided as the fight began. I started to smile when the seriousness of the fight was beginning to show in the face of Laney. As a pleasant surprise to me the little smile threw him off. I immediately took advantage of it with a series of quick powerful jabs. He countered the situation by throwing a wide left hook. Seeing it coming I ducked right under it, coming back up with my own hook landing it on his left temple and ear. I sent him falling flat on his back with a look that was priceless it was a look of sheer surprise, this is where I wished I had used the smaller MMA gloves instead, I could have easily ended the fight right then. I paced circles around him, in the dirt that still hasn’t settled from the last fight, smiling, waiting for him to get back up. He pulled himself up and got right back into his guard not aware that I had already won. I had already called the fight when he went down. Now just toying with him I tried a spinning back fist that I saw on the Ultimate Fighter. It landed on his jaw, leaving a perfect imprint of his face, I heard “Oooooo” coming from the crowd as he stumbled out of our circle. My only thought is. “I really hope someone caught that!”

And then the fight is over. He tapped out. I was hoping for a better fight than that, it turns out that you can’t judge a fighter based on appearance alone. I thought for sure I was going to lose.

“Round Two?” I asked Laney.

“HA HA, you are funny.” Replied Laney

“Maybe later.” I say with a grin.

We start to pack everything up when I see a big white truck not too far away; on the side of the vehicle the three most threatening words are printed, “Alpine School District.”

“God dammit!” I yelled “Ok hurry and get the gloves out of here, make sure those get out of here!”

We pick up a quick steady pace when we walk the longest couple of yards back to school.

“If he gets in our way just keep walking. Hey! You with the gloves! You don’t stop for anything. C.J., Court, Pete meet me at my locker in five min.” I commanded

We get closer and closer before the white truck pulls out in front of us.

“Keep Moving” I tell everyone

“HEY! HEY YOU IN THE HAT!” I hear over the roaring diesel engine.

I turn and the man in the truck is pointing at me. I tell the bag man to keep moving, don’t stop. I run over to the driver’s side window, burning fuel is heavy in the air, almost gag worthy.

“Yeah?” I say while the knot in my stomach getting bigger.

“How often do you guys go back there?” said the man in the truck.

“Well this is our first time,” I say, lying of course, “Why?

“Oh, really? Damn I was going to get a couple buddies of mine and watch.” He said with a grin.

“Hey well umm… keep this quiet we all don’t want to get screwed.”

“Don’t worry I will.” He said

We now have our inside man. This was going better than I hoped.

“We’re clear.” I inform the others

T

he next day everyone was talking about it. I felt as if I accomplished something great Even with our sore faces Pete and I were on top of the universe. We felt like gods. I wanted more, I needed more. A couple of fights couldn’t satisfy my hunger. And so we both fought more and more. I was reined undefeated. Pete only lost to me. We were the same in almost every way. Except he could withstand a train hitting him but we were still even since my punches could be related to a sniper, quick, accurate and powerful. We ate through every person who challenged us. We joked around about having a rematch since we were very similar fighters.

The day finally came when Pete and I decided our rematch.

We both were more nervous than we had ever been. We were also more excited than ever. The fight was about to start and we chose my backyard for location, one floodlight, one camera. We wrapped our hands and strapped up. We already knew the rules, so we just began. It started off slow and shot up from there. By now we were both used to the sudden sick feeling of the adrenaline kicking in. We got used to the slowing down of time and took full advantage of it. He threw a whirlwind of punches to my face and stomach. Lucky for me he doesn’t know how to aim his blows very well. I throw my punches over and over missing almost every time, he too has also gotten a lot better since our first fight. We each only landed a few hits, his hit landed right across the bridge of my nose sending blood pouring down my face and into my mouth. I spit. A dark red teardrop hits the pavement. I look up at him and we both smile and continue going at it. Exchanging blows to the face and torso, a very vulnerable spot on him that I found out last time. I connected a right cross on the tip of his chin and nearly dropped him. I landed another hit on his temple, whipping his head sideways. He returned the favor by landing a combo almost knocking me down on my back. We kept going and going and it finally got to the point to where we couldn’t lift our own arms not even taking into consideration that the whole fight lasted a half hour with no breaks and that that may have had something to do with our fatigue. We both called the fight we were too tired to continue.

“I’ll kick your ass later.” I said with a cocky grin.

“HA like I’ll let you!” Pete replied.

And that’s where we left off me bloodied up looking like a dripping stop sign, and him trying to keep his balance as he walked home. That was the last fight of our group, but there are many more to come. Many more opportunities to get our ass handed to each other on a silver-plated platter.