Match

     “Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for! The fifth title defense is on for cruiserweight champion Tyson “The Fury” Sanders, but his opponent may be the toughest yet! Hailing from the Middle East, this young man has been called a genius, a prodigy, and even the one who may bring much needed life back to the boxing world! Please, give a warm welcome to Sebastian “Bash” Khan!”

     I burst the doors open, unsure of what is thumping louder �" my heart or the booming crowd that greets me. Above the frenzied screams of my fans, speakers all around the arena start blasting “Can’t Stop” and I saunter down the narrow pathway, greeting fans all around me, howling with them and making their madness my own. Their faces go through varied states of euphoria, and it is as easy to find raging insanity as unexpected sadness. For just a twinging second, I wish I could feel and express myself as honestly as they do. Alas, that was lost for me years ago.

     Even so, it is an incredible sensation to see their faces light up when I jump to high-five them at the stands or when I simply smile at them, giving the acknowledgement they came here craving. These short-lived moments are the one thing that make all of this worth it. People say boxing fans are the best, and that rings true every single time.

     The path leading to the ring is short, but upon landing on the VIP area, I take my time greeting as many people as I can, thanking them for being there. An earful awaits me from my manager if I do not. Most of their faces pass by me in a haze, until my gaze falls on a couple seated to my right. Unlike the rest of the fans in the arena�"who are either encouraging or booing me�"they stand still, staring at the ring. It’s hard to see much of the man other than his grizzly, unkempt beard and the greying hair that falls down his back through his hat. The woman, however, is a face I wouldn’t miss in a thousand years; one of my former instructors where I graduated. As if feeling me ogling them, she elegantly turns and winks at me, a soft smile stamped on her face. Even from the distance, I can see her vibrant blue eyes, perfectly fitting the blond hair that falls in waves down her shoulders. Her companion calls her attention with a nod and she turns back to him. Mystified by her presence, I shake my head and resume my walk to the ring as I feel one of my seconds bumping me in the back.

     The roaring crowd intensifies its thundering clamor as I step inside, throwing a few one-two combos for their delight. The announcer, a man dressed in a sharp black suit and well in his fifties, comes over to greet me, sporting a jovial and excited expression.

     “So, Sebastian, how are you feeling about tonight?” he asks, smiling and handing me the mic.

      I think about it for a bit, thinking of how to answer without sounding too full of myself nor too lackadaisical. “Well, I just want us to have a good fight, y’know? But I do think I’m leaving the stadium with a belt tonight!”  

     “That’s just the kind of answer we love to hear! And what about the rumors of you being a prodigy, what do you think about those? I mean, you do have an impressive 12-0 record, all first round KO’s.”

     As he finished the question, silence started to fall all around the stadium. This is the first time that I’ll answer a question like this, and they were interested in what I’d say. I took the mic once more and breathed heavily, pretending to think about it.

     “I don’t think I’m all that they say, but I’m not shabby either. Saying  that would be a disrespect to every one I’ve fought so far. I just practice a lot, you know?”

     When he took that mic back, he had a disappointed smile, probably because of the two bomb questions I’d just avoided. Someone wants to see me going down before the crowd.

     “Thank you for the answers, Bash! I’m sure the fans appreciate your humbleness.” He left me in my corner and went back to the center of the ring, raising one of his hands. “And now, ladies and gents, let me hear the crowd go wild for the one and only Monster of Jersey! Holding an undefeated streak of thirty-two fights, the man who could punch through concrete, Tyson “The Fury” Sanders!”

     The doors on the opposite side from where I’d come open up, and Tyson strolls down, wearing the champion belt. Even from a distance he looks confident, like a tiger ready to pounce upon his prey, and the crowd goes crazy when he appears. I am, after all, the underdog. Tyson jumps into the ring and stares madly at me, his face a mask of rage �" it might have something to do with the fact that I put his brother in the hospital with a broken jaw. However, his provocation is interrupted as the announcer invites him for a few questions, as he’d done with me.

     While they’re talking�"the champion gets way more talk time than I do�"someone nudges my leg. I look down, surprised to find Serena, my former instructor, grinning at me. She climbs up the rope so that we’re as close as possible, though I still have a good eight inches on her.

     “Never expected to find you here, though I suppose it was only proper for you,” she screams hard to be heard over the crowd.

     “Always a fighter, as you used to say. But I don’t do it for the fight itself, you know? No thrill for me here,” I shout.

     “So you are pulling when you fight, you little devil! If the Order found out�"” she starts but I interrupt her.

     “F**k the Order and all their stupid rules. Look around you, Serena! This atmosphere, this makes it all worth it!” I open my arms wide, welcoming the cheer.

     “Would they still cheer for you if they knew you were cheating? Look, I know that you had a rough start, and how constrained you felt over all our stupid rules, but they’re there for our safety and the safety of all these people! But I’m not here to upset you or anything, I’m here just as a fan. Word of advice, though? Don’t pull today; win honestly. Or you’re going to lose.”

     She winks at me before climbing back down, and I can feel my face getting hot. I venture a gaze at her companion and he is looking at me, smiling. I see now that he’s got a rugged face, and tired eyes that his smile don’t reach. His beard lends him an arcane charm, broken a bit by the informality of his panama hat. He taps his finger against his temple twice and then uses the same hand to show a thumbs down sign. The message of the man, who I now see is acting as a disruptor, is very clear. I can’t help but smile at him, though. I’ll let him have his fun for the first round or two, then he’s in for a surprise.

     I turn back towards the ring, feeling the sweat run down my body in anticipation for the bout. The referee calls us both to the center and explains the rules while we are both locked in a death gaze. “Clean fight, aye? No elbow, no low blows. When I say stop, you stop. Got it?” He looked at both of us and we agreed. “Good. Back to your corners, get ready,” he said, dismissing us.

     My heart is pounding as I head back to my corner, hitting my gloves and hang back against the ropes. As I wait for the first bell peeking at the tattoos that fill my arms all the way to the shoulder. The colorful geometric lines, forming no specific shape, pulse with energy before my eyes, but it is something only I can see. The bell rings and I close my eyes for a second before getting in southpaw stance going to the center of the ring.

     “I’m going to f**k you up, you little mongrel!” Tyson spits through his mouth guard and points at me with his right glove. “Then it’s your sister, mother, whoever you care about. You done my brother, now I’m going to do your family!”

     Oh, boy. He does not want to go there.

     “Listen, mate, it happened during a fight. Nothing I could have done!” I respond, raising my gloves defensively. Truth is I did break the retard’s jaw on purpose, just to make this one fight more entertaining. Never underestimate the power of brotherly love.

     Tyson buffs twice, as if releasing his anger, and as I start to relax, he sucker punches me in the gut. It’s not like it came entirely as a surprise, but I also didn’t expect it to feel like a cast iron ball thrown against my stomach. The referee immediately got between us, screaming at Tyson and warning that he was being penalized for that. He didn’t seem to care, and why should him? We both knew this fight wouldn’t stretch to a decision. I was going to give him two rounds, but I guess I’m bringing it down to one.

The referee touches our gloves, visibly angry, and then falls back. The bell signaling the beginning of the first round goes off. 

 

 

     Tyson is a big guy for our weight class, and is probably used to outranging and bullying his opponents. He throws a tentative jab and I let him hit me, grazing me in the cheek. Foot in, foot out, we circle each other, with Tyson’s jabs giving him a wrong sense of distance. Some punches I parry while others graze me where I want them to. Even if I’m the better fighter, it’ll be hard to take him down in the first round if I don’t ‘cheat’, as my instructor calls it.

     The crowd’s noise fades away as I concentrate part of my attention on drawing energy from my tattoos. If I had been pulling the usual way, from the Mundi Veteres, Serena’s friend would’ve been able to cut me off and leave me stranded, but not the way I’m doing it. I created this technique from scratch, storing energy into ink so I can use it later. As I pull, I feel it flooding me, pure energy pouring through my muscles, entering my body and irrigating it �" raw and ready for manipulation.

     This energy changes according to the user’s wishes, allowing me shape anything in any way I see fit. However, it is very volatile, and an untrained mind could cause things to go awry very easily. It’s not unheard of for beginners in this craft to incinerate themselves while trying to conjure fire, for instance. I’m a far cry from being a novice, though, and using it feels as easy as walking.

     The feeling of invincibility leaves my body as I gather the energy around my fists, ready to alter their properties. Less than a second has passed over this, and another of Tyson’s punch is coming my way. I step in and just as his fist flies above my right shoulder, my right hook is on its merry way to meet Tyson’s cheek. As it’s about to land, I double the density of my fist, feeling the sudden weight increase pull my arm down and causing the glove to hit him square in the jaw. Right after hitting, I dispel the energy, drawing back my arm while Tyson falls �" unconscious before he hits the ground.