This story is a rewrite of my old project known as Heart or the Fist. It's back by popular demand, restructured with an expanded and slightly altered story premise. These first two chapters are trail chapters as I'm still undecided on if I'm pleased with the quality so far. If you enjoy the read then please let me know.
I usually wouldn't release stories under a trial, but with my limited time and several other stories in the works I can't afford to split my attention unless I feel a story meets my standards - I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to my writing projects. A special thanks to all the readers of the original project for coming back again. Your support is most welcome.
Fighting for Retribution
"Defeat – it cost me everything. The good name of my family was built on the precept of skill and power. It took one night, Steve…. One night and everything went to hell."
A bar – illuminated in neon green, patrons huddled around tables sipping their beers and cocktails. The oaken chairs and furniture sat dotted around like little marbles amidst a sea of people. In the sea of patrons, two men sat at the forefront beside the bar. Scowls honed in as one of the duo reached across for the remote and changed the channel from the football game to something different.
'News spreads across the world like wildfire as the King of Iron Fist Tournament Six has been announced. So far, there has been a multitude of invites and entries from prominent fighting figures across the globe. With the fights starting just three weeks with now, and just a handful of slots remaining… how will the roster shape up this time around? Stay tuned for more.'
A gentleman stood from his seat, peroxide blond highlights amess in his brownish hair. His eyes, green as emeralds, honed in on the television set as he scooped up his denim jacket and threw it over his shoulder, taking his time to run a hand across his rugged chin in reflection.
Beside him stood his companion, a man of solid muscular build with bright, natural blonde locks set dead straight. His tree-like arms bulged against his sleeves as he placed a hand upon his friend's shoulder.
"I've known you for how long, Mike Lennox? This time you will make it – no matter what. Trust me mate. I've seen the fire in your eyes since the moment she took you down. You're different… the showman in you has quieted."
However, Mike, the green eyed, denim clad bruiser of the pair, didn't seem convinced, "It's okay for you, Fox. You're boxing world champion. Me? I've had to bounce across the world from street fight to street fight, London to Thailand in the hopes of clawing my way back to the top. Losing to her in the qualifiers for the third Iron Fist all those years back… it changed my outlook."
"And yet you didn't back down," Steve continued with a supportive pat on the shoulder as they made their way through the bustling patrons and toward the doorway, "This time around we're both entering… and between us… I'm sure we'll be able to find her and give her the old one-two."
Lennox, comforted by the support of his comrade, allowed his lips to curve into a smile as he held out his hand, "I'm counting on you, Steve. Noble cause or not… she destroyed my credibility and made me question everything I'd learned as a fighter."
"I can't let it go," Mike continued," No… I'll never let it go," with a clench of the fist, he steeled himself, walking out into the rain and looking up at the cloudy moon in the sky. England, it never stopped raining, no matter how much he wished it would.
A reassuring hand on the shoulder from Steve snapped him back from his frustrations, at least long enough to make him disarm, "Well… come next week we'll be out in Japan, and the moment of truth's going to come fast," the boxer smiled with confidence, "Your loss a couple of years back? It'd say it's been a learning experience for you, Mike. You've found all sorts of dedication to your art."
"I guess you're right," yet in truth, the young man didn't feel anything but a quiet frustration toward his former weakness. He'd beaten so many people, bested so many powerful foes, become one of the best when it came to Kickboxing, an art he'd honed sharply with his own flare of brawl fighting.
Yet none of it mattered –it would never matter. Not until the day, he settled the score for his humiliating defeat those years prior.
"You know I'm right, pal," came Steve with a stern nod of his radiant blond hair, "Anyway… It's about time I head out for the night. Got a training session on the morrow, you know what it's like," he smiled, holding out his hand to Lennox, "Put her there, mate. I'll be seeing you when we touch base in Tokyo."
The two shook hands, their eyes resolute in unison for the battles ahead. Finally sated and feeling some assurance, Mike narrowed his eyes, a smirk of confidence twisting his expression as he thought of what the future might bring. "May the best man win," he chuckled, "And if I end up fighting you in the tournament, Fox… don't hold back. Give it your all!"
"Amen to that, Mike, amen," the boxer shook and turned to take his leave, "I have a good feeling about this one… like we're both going to find what we're looking for."
With that, Steve took his leave across the street – and Mikey watched attentively as his comrade hailed a taxi. "Have a good night, friend."
Left alone now, the kickboxer took off down the street, slung on his jacket and slipped his hands into the pockets for warmth. The clouds had finally cleared, thank God, and it was finally shaping up to be a decent night, what was left of it at least.
However, in the loneliness of the neon lights and the hustle and bustle of traffic on the streets, the rugged young man allowed his thoughts to wander in reflection.
"Two years since she beat me… and I've not since forgotten her face. In light of everything, I need to ask myself a question. After all… I've clung to this resentment for so long that I'm beginning to wonder…."
The moon acting as his guide, Mike stared upward in hoping that the clear lunar light would soothe his conflicted soul, "Even if I'm able to beat her will I find the answers that I'm looking for? Will settling the score make me feel contented as a fighter, after all this time?"
No – he couldn't think like that. Under no circumstances could his resolve begin to waver now. For so long now he'd held the fire in his heart and twisted it to fuel his strength. He needed it above all else to keep the flames within his heart ablaze. For better or worse, his path had been set, and there was no outcome to be had aside from redemption.
"Victory or bust… there's no middle ground this time. I can't go back home to my family a loser… a failure…. I've got to beat her no matter what. After all, my uncle sacrificed too much when he took me into his home all those years ago. He gave his career so I could have a life… I can't let him down."
Indeed, there was only one possible outcome, and given the determination he felt in his heart, it was painfully obvious what had to be done. Alas, with fury burning in his eyes, he glared at the purest white of the moon and allowed his inner fire to roam free, his power, alight within the confines of his chenched fists.
"I don't care what it takes… Julia Chang… you won't defeat me a second time. I swear, on everything that makes me a fighter… next time we meet… you'll know what it's like to fall from grace. I can't show compassion anymore… and I can never allow myself to feel defeat a second time.
After all, emblazoned upon his jacket was the mantra which he loved by. Stitched upon his jacket, was the name which he wore with pride above all else.
"Lennox… my name is Mike Lennox…. I come from a family of proud fighters… and no matter what… against all the odds… I won't fail."
Into the darkness of night Mike travelled, his beating heart set upon a single powerful goal – retribution. His battle would soon begin, but the outcome was something that even he didn't know. Only time would tell.
To be continued….
Thanks again for your time, and if you enjoyed it then please feel free to take a look at the next chapter. I'm very grateful for the support!