:Rumor Has It:
Prologue
If rumors were true,
If they were real,
And weren't spun out of lies,
Then my actual existence wouldn't be.
Rumor has it; I'm the most lethal fighter.
"Sock it to him!"
"Give him the right! Give him the right!"
The crowd was lively tonight. Their spirits were high, there anticipation for victory roared throughout the room. They simply wanted a clean knock out, that's all they hungered for.
"Common! Fight!"
I held my left wrist tightly to my face. Protect yourself, that's what mattered most. My feet danced backwards as the numerous punches were aimed towards me. The lungs in my chest heaved the deep breaths. The sweat pored from my brow and back. My shirt was drenched after nearly thirty minutes. The musty smell of the damp arena penetrated my nose like sour rain.
He would launch a hit and then I would follow with a jab. Both of us were matched. Our opponent was just as experienced and talented as the other. We boxed as if we were facing mirrors, clones of ourselves. Our own reflection was defeating us.
Blood trickled from my nose.
Then again-
My feet started to bounce more lightly.
No one ever mentioned the rules.
In my perspective, time slowed as I shut my left eye. The sounds around me moaned together, they became a low hum against my ears. However, everything amplified visually. I watched my opponent decide to advance. Even the flickering dim lights above caused their own effects. The man's damp olive skin now glistened like a morning mist. His heavy feet, the thuds from the pavement vibrated to me.
I could feel him.
His heart beat, his buzz-like breathing, his pulsing determination. It was there, all there, and coming at me with killer intentions. My own body shivered as the creepy multiple leg bug crawled around my head.
Dying.
Rotting.
As the man before me swung a low thrust toward my ribs, I shifted my weight. I allowed my muscles to become lifeless, flexible like air. My back arched as my hands flew behind me. Instantly, my head was down, hands met the floor, and my feet acted like additional tools. The backward flip aided against my defense; it added the momentum to my kick. The man grunted after my foot met his chin.
The crowd cheered.
Collecting myself, I spiraled downwards with an out reached hook in my leg. Instantly, the broad chested male collided with the floor. The man was winded, unaware of how he ended up on his back. Though this was a boxing match, street fights don't have a ring. So, why should there be limits?
There were no limits to how someone could die.
I pounced over him.
My eye fixed on his weary expression. His swollen battered face pleaded for mercy. I tightened my lips. My dry tongue racked against the roof of my mouth. I hated this part, the dead weight, and the stiffness. My knuckles rolled into a fist under the bloody wraps around my hand. His throat was pinned by the weight of my leg. I could feel the lump in there, trying to move.
I didn't stop pounding into his skull until I was sure I heard the final crack.
My blistered bones popped as I unraveled my hand. The blood from my rival pooled from him and dripped across his face as I lifted arm. I shook out the numbing sensation. Ignoring the audience's sickening applause and joyous betting wins, I made my way into the shadows. My hand ran roughly over my partly shaved head. The guilt and unsettling feeling lingered in my gut.
That man, he didn't have a face or a physical description. To me, he was just another body to add to the paycheck.
Rumor has it; I'm the most lethal fighter.
What the rumor doesn't whisper is the truth.
The truth, I'm lethal because I'm the most corrupt fighter.
I hadn't realized the following of moss colored capes lurking after me. If I had, I would have altered that damn rumor.
However, blood never can be fully washed away.
The trail I had made was as thick as my past.
Prologue Complete.
So many details! Think you can guess what her corrupt doings are?
Story centered around character concept by SecretWishX.
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