Chapter 23: Fighting the Champ
Vaughn and Rhal stared each other down, each not moving for a good minute. Rhal raised his fists up to his face, palms facing Vaughn, as he slowly rose to the balls of his feet. Rhal shifted his weight from one foot to another, almost bouncing as his long dreadlocks swung side to side. It reminded Vaughn of some kind of Muay Thai kickboxing. The crowd roared its approval at this, as he must have done it in previous championship victory matches. He moved with a fluid and rhythmic motion that almost seemed soothing. "Float like a butterfly..." Vaughn muttered to himself as he slowly approached the fighter. Rhal seemed to move without breaking his rhythmic step, just kind of floating around as the two competitors circled each other.
Vaughn was hit first; a quick jab to the shoulder put him on higher guard. Rhal was fast, much faster than anyone else he had fought. The razor wire stung, and as Rhal retracted his fist, tiny bits of Vaughn's shoulder went with it. He winced and shook off the sting, keeping his hands up like a boxer. Another jab sent Vaughn stumbling back and almost losing his balance, this one popping him on the chin. The synthetic man shook his jaw as the small bullets of blood formed just below his lip. Three more punches came, two jabs and a hook. The jabs both tagged Vaughn's chest, but the hook was blocked by his right arm. Vaughn kept his distance from the smiling champion, he had at least a foot reach disadvantage, and Vaughn wasn't much of a boxer to begin with. Another hook came from the left, but it was too high. Vaughn dashed in close to Rhal and began to bring up his right hand in a powerful uppercut, but was met with a devastating head butt from above. Vaughn fought off the stars as he stumbled back out away from Rhal, receiving two more jabs for his trouble. "So da little ooman not so tough after all huh?" Vaughn gritted his teeth and cracked his neck as he tried to figure out a strategy. Rhal gave him no such opportunity, as the huge dark fighter closed in and unleashed a barrage of punches. Vaughn covered up his head as the razor sharp blows hit him one after the other. He could feel the warm trickle of his own blood, as he was beat from side to side. He held his balance though, if only barely. An opportunity came after a series of hard rights. Vaughn noticed that Rhal had lost his rhythm for a split second, and that was all he needed. He ripped up through the air with an uppercut, which landed underneath Rhal's jaw with shattering force. The champion stumbled back, a thin trail of blood trailing from his lips as he flailed his arms wildly and struggled to keep his balance. Vaughn decided that it was his turn to dish out a beat down. What followed was a flurry of fists and razors. Vaughn swung again and again, blood flying from his now dripping fists, soaked from the wounds covering Rhal's arms and chest. Vaughn put all of his strength into one last punch, a hook that connected with the side of Rhal's head in a satisfying thud. Rhal flew through the air, totally horizontal, then hit the ground like a ton of bricks. Vaughn yelled and raised his fist high into the air.
The crowd was dead silent for a full ten seconds, then exploded with cheers and chants of "oooooman!!! oooooman!!!" It was then that Vaughn noticed just how much he had taken, he was covered in his own blood. Tiny scratches and cuts ran in all directions across his body. They were tender to the touch, but he was happy anyway, he had after all, just won the games. Well, at least he though he had.