Chapter CLXIII: Boxing Episode
December 25, 2548
UNSC Flawless, in orbit above Paris IV, Paris System
"You said it, you believe it, now make it happen."- PFC Ryan Hoff
It was not very often that an officer found himself confronted by two enlisted men. I currently found myself in such a situation and I didn't quite like it. Pavel and Grigori were standing in front of me with their arms crossed firmly over their chests. Under normal circumstances I would have felt threatened by them, Pavel was an incredibly strong man, stronger than me under normal circumstances, and Grigori was one of the most skilled men in hand-to-hand combat I knew. Any smart man would've backed away and conceded.
These were not normal circumstances. First, I was a superior officer to both of them and Pavel was my friend. Secondly and most importantly, I had been augmented beyond the physical capacity of any normal human being. I might not have been super strong all the time, but even at my worst I was stronger than the muscular Pavel and faster than the agile Grigori. Sometimes it did me a degree of satisfaction that I was the most deadly man in the room at any given time.
"It is too risky," Grigori asserted calmly.
"Risky my ass," I replied. "I can do whatever the hell I want; you know that, don't you?"
"Frank…" Pavel warned in a low growl.
"What?! I'm going to do it. I don't care what you think."
Grigori shook his head and moved his arms so that his hands were firmly planted in his hips.
"Listen Frank, why don't you just come down to Paris and we talk it over?"
"No!" I snapped. I can't go back down there. Not if I can avoid it. "No. No need to go back down to that shithole."
Pavel's eyes widened in a mix of amusement and anger. "I know Paris isn't the most beautiful of cities, but you shouldn't care about it as long as you have a drink in your hand."
"Are you trying to say something?!" I asked him.
Grigori quickly stepped in between Pavel and me, stretching his arms and pushing us back. "Easy there."
I raised my hands and took a step back. "I'm not going down to that shithole," I said, my tone final. "And I will end that fucking tournament."
"You could kill someone," Pavel hissed.
"I won't," I assured him, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. "I know better than that."
Pavel sighed, relaxing a little. "I don't know all the details about what is going on with…" he waved his hands at me in a vague gesture. "Whatever. I do know that you might end up killing someone by accident, whether you want to or not. It happens to regular people all the time."
I grunted. "I. Do not. Care. I'm going to do this." After saying that I shouldered my way past them and headed towards the nearest terminal.
Getting myself enrolled in the ship's not-quite-yearly boxing tournament wasn't exactly a smart idea. I knew that well enough. Despite my own personal misgivings about that I also knew that if I went down to Paris IV and to Udinia, I might not be able to control myself. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Hanna, and if that meant that I needed to hurt some unlucky Marine then I would gladly do it. The tournament would occupy my attention for at least a full week, after that I'd just have to find something else to keep myself busy with.
"Wow, after four years you still love the waitress," Schitzo said disbelievingly. "Four years Francsico. What the hell's wrong with you?"
I grunted and waved him away, knowing the truth in his words. It didn't make sense, if I still didn't trust myself with a girl I had had a one-night stand with years ago my own opinion of myself was lower than I had imagined.
The roster was a big one, with several men from other ships signing up for getting their asses kicked. Most of the participants were from the Flawless itself, but quite a few were from the Naverone and the rest were from the other ships inthe battle group. Even the prowler had submitted a contestant.
I signed up on the terminal and took half a step back. The little computer told me that a sheet with rules and all the necessary mumbo jumbo would be sent to my personal datapad for me to review and agree to before my first fight.
I sighed. I really hoped I didn't kill someone.
"Remember to keep your guard up, Sir," Sandor reminded me for the eleventh time.
I groaned. "I brought you here to wipe sweat from my face Sandor, I know how to box."
Sandor shrugged but gave me a wide grin. "Of course, El-tee."
"So, what do you know about my opponent for today?"
"Marine, Grizzly Company. Don't really know much about him other than he's good but not that good."
I had to suppress a smile of amusement. If he wasn't that good then this could prove to be a very short fight. I could drag it out, try not to make it to obvious, but I wasn't about to look like an idiot in front of whoever decided that they wanted to watch the fight.
There weren't that many people in the simulation room. The huge swath of space had been configured so that there were four different boxing rings as well as stools surrounding them. This was only the first round of fights, which meant that my opponent wasn't going to be that tough and that not a lot of people would be watching. Still, beating the shit out of someone was a good stress reliever.
I sat down on a stool near my corner and asked Sandor for the time. I waited for my opponent to show up and then lazily climbed inside the ring. The referee looked like a chief from one of the hangars, he was obviously going to enjoy seeing Marines beat the hell out of each other. He checked my gloves to confirm that they were the ten-ounce regulation weight and then repeated the process with my opponent.
"We're using standard UNSC boxing rules," the ref explained. "We're going to have six rounds of three minutes each with one minute in between them. Mouth guardsare obligatory, no punches below the belt, etcetera. Play nice."
I nodded at the ref and rolled my neck, biting firmly at my mouthguard. I looked at the Marine I would be fighting in the eyes and punched his gloves. He returned the gesture and we both took a step back.
"Go," the ref said lazily.
I started bobbing, moving around my opponent slowly as he did the same thing. The man was muscular, I'll give him that. He had a barrel chest and his biceps were a lot bigger than your average testosterone-filled Marine. Most importantly, he had nice footwork and an appropriate boxing guard.
He threw the first punch, a probing jab that I leaned back to avoid. After that I delivered a quick hook that grazed his belly when he jumped back to avoid it. He had quick reflexes and looked like he could punch out a small elephant.
It was still going to be an easy fight. I ducked underneath a couple of his swings and delivered a jab to his belly. He contracted his muscles properly and I didn't drive the air out of him. He knew the basics, but he was an amateur in every sense of the word. He punched and I either ducked or stepped back. Even by regular standards he was a slow fighter. For the sake of entertainment I let him connect a hit to my jaw. The man packed a punch and even prepared I stumbled sideways a couple of steps. I had to sidestep in order to avoid a follow-up attack.
"Come on, lieutenant!" Sandor called. "Keep your eyes open!"
I rolled my eyes and kept on boxing. The man's friends were cheering him on after that solid hit he connected, but the round ended before anything of interest could happen.
I went to my corner and sat down; taking a small sip of a water bottle that Sandor offered me.
"He's powerful, but slow as an Elephant." I didn't know whether he was referring to the animal or the vehicle. "Just get him to throw a hook and duck under it. After that you should have easy access to his ribs."
Despite my opinion on having Sandor working as a coach for me, I had to admit that he had read the situation perfectly. He had spotted his strengths and weaknesses and advised a course of action that I could easily follow.
"Got it," I told him.
Next round was more ore less the same, but this time I didn't allow him to connect any punches.
"Come on El-tee," Sandor said. "What the hell's going on? Just punch him the hell out."
I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine, if you stop complaining I'll do that."
"Great!" he exclaimed cheerily. "Let's do this!"
The third round was quick. The guy was tired and angry and just wanted to knock me flat on my ass. He threw three jabs before attempting to hit my face. I even lowered my guard a bit for him and everything.
The punch missed and I threw three quick short hooks at his left ribs. He grunted hard with each one and lowered his guard to protect himself. The moment he did that I hit him with a moderately more powerful hook to the jaw. His head snapped to the side and he collapsed to the floor.
He sat up and shook his head only to fall back to the floor again. There he groaned and rolled to his side, prompting the referee to declare a technical knockout.
I smiled as his friends complained and Sandor let out a whoop.
I couldn't help but being proud of myself at the increased size of my entourage. A couple of random passerbys and friends of my opponent had been the only ones to spectate during my first fight. With each successive match a lot more people had come. It was partially because there were less fights for people to watch, but I had also been placed as one of the top contenders for the title. I did my best to drag out the fights, to make them fun and interesting to watch, but in the end they were all outclassed.
Wow, how arrogant does that sound?
This next fight was supposed to be a tough one. A lot of people had congregated to watch. I was facing a huge sergeant from the Naverone. He was half a foot taller than me and every bit as muscular as most men dreamed of being. I had to admit that I was intimidated by the guy. I had seen a couple of videos of his fights and he was every bit as strong as he was fast. That, coupled with his longer arms and reach meant that I'd have to be extra careful unless I wanted to be knocked straight to the tarp.
Other than that, I could take the guy. If I held myself back and was careful I'd have a little bit of trouble, but not much. Judging from his previous fights, he was slower than me, with enough punches to the body I could bring him down.
Sandor was helping me bandage my arms; he was taking his job very seriously. I could bandage my own hands perfectly fine, but he did a nice job of it too. Behind him were all the surviving members of Reaper Squad as well as some other Helljumpers from the company, most of them men from my platoon. Pavel and Grigori still had disapproving looks on their faces, but my previous matches had convinced them that I could handle my strength and speed without sending someone to the hospital.
"That good?" Sandor asked me.
I flexed my hands, testing the bandages and then nodded. "Yeah."
Sandor smiled and nodded back to me. "We went over this El-tee, try not to get hit much. He takes longer to get back into a proper guard when he punches with his left hand and his footwork is not as good as it could be. Tire him out and connect when you can."
"Kick his ass, sir!" Rob called out.
"Thanks Rob," I replied, raising one hand in thanks. I turned to Sandor. "Ok, gloves."
Sandor put my gloves on and tightened the Velcro straps, making sure that they wouldn't slip off if my opponent caught them between his arms and body. I pounded the red gloves together and nodded to myself before standing up. There were almost three hundred people here, all wanted to watch the fight between the huge Marine and me. To my pride and joy, I was leading the odds in the unofficial betting pools. At least my skill hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Is it really fair, Francisco?" Schitzo asked. "I mean, I don't think it is, with you being what you are."
I ignored him. It wouldn't do me any good to lose my cool in front of everybody. Instead, I climbed into the ring and let the referee examine my gloves.
"Flex for us, El-tee!" Rob called from behind.
After the ref was done I turned and did just that, smiling when I got wolf-whistles and catcalls in return. Most of my men were confident that I would win, and the rest just seemed amused by my confidence in front of what seemed to be bad odds.
When I turned I saw the huge Marine climbing in. I raised an eyebrow, I would've been skeptical of my chances if I had been an outside observer. He let the referee examine his gloves and then gave me a once-over. His body language marked him as relaxed, I'd make him pay for that mistake soon enough.
"Ok, we're in the final rounds," the ref began. "As you know, the match will now last the standard length of twelve rounds. The rest of the rules are the same as always. No hits below the belt, etcetera. Got it?"
"Got it," I replied."
"Yeah," the other man replied.
"Very well then, back to your corners."
I walked back and Sandor handed me my mouth guard. Rob and Hoff were also there andboth gave me quick words of encouragement. Behind them Pavel gave me a quick look of warning, but he didn't seem to be angry at me anymore. I met his gaze and gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement. Then I got back up and turned around to face my opponent. The bells rang and the fight began.
The man still carried a somewhat arrogant posture. I launched a quick right hook that hit him in the ear before he could react. The crowd roared in approval and he hunched over slightly, getting himself into a tighter guard, his eyes warier than before.
From that point on it turned into a good fight. I didn't have to hold back that much. I knew that I was stronger than him, but my augmentations didn't always respond, he was almost as fast as I was and strong enough to make me wary of his huge fists. We kept our distance, only landing a couple of hits on each other on that first round. When the bell rang, I was leading the scoreboards.
"He's good El-tee," Sandor said immediately as I sat down. "Fast and won't tire easily, despite his size."
"What do you recommend?" I asked through my mouth guard.
"Go I quick, hit him once or twice, then go out."
I that strategy would go something like this: my first hit would make him close his guard, the second one would just be a cover for me to jump back out before he could recover. Two quick jabs or a jab and a cross would do.
It worked well enough the first couple of times. I hit him in the belly and the chest but then he closed his guard even more. On my fourth or fifth attempt to hit him he managed a counter punch that caught me right in the left of the jaw. I rolled with the punch and for a moment I thought I would go into the tarp, but I kept on rolling and eventually landed with my back against the ropes. I looked up to see a huge red glove flying straight at my face and somehow managed to duck underneath it and take a step forward, escaping from the ropes and putting some distance between myself and my opponent.
Shit, I cursed myself.
After that I was feeling a little bit vindictive, so I didn't hesitate one bit to hit the guy with a four punch combination, three out of those four landed, hitting him in the ribs, chest, and forehead.
The entire simulation room roared.
"Knock him out!" someone yelled.
"Kick his ass!" another one seconded.
After that it all became a little bit blurry and soon the second round was over.
"Shit, sir," Sandor said as I sat down on the stool in the corner. "If you keep up that pace the fight is going to end pretty quick."
"With him on the tarp," I growled.
"Damn right," Rob agreed.
Sandor nodded. "Yeah, but be careful, don't tire yourself unnecessarily."
I nodded and drank some water before jumping back to my feet.
The fight resumed with a vicious rhythm that none of us would've been able to support for long. We punched at each other with little to no regard for our own protection. I was faster and landed more punches, he was bigger and made me stagger more times. A couple of seconds before the round ended I ducked underneath a wide swing and hit him twice right below the ribs. He huffed and went down on one knee. The ref started counting. My opponent, however, wasn't out for the count just yet. He stood up just before the round ended.
"Damn El-tee, try not to get hit that much."
"I'm fine," I assured Sandor. "Only a couple of his hits were really bad."
"Try to slow down a bit," he recommended. "He's worse for wear than you right now and you're leading the scoreboards."
"Yeah, yeah. I'll try."
Next round saw a blurry of punches and combinations even worse than the last one. Two punches landed straight on my face, one of which opened up a small cut near my right eyebrow. In return I punched him right below the eye hard enough to send him two steps back and then hit him three more times in the sides before he could lower his guard again.
When Sandor chastised me for being so careless I didn't say anything, I only nodded and took deep breaths, trying to regain my bearings. Sandor wiped the blood from my face and rubbed petroleum jelly over the cut, sealing it for the time being.
"Keep your guard up," he told me.
When the fifth round started my opponent's face was swollen up where I had hit him. I hope I didn't look half as bad as he did. I like my face the way it was.
He threw three powerful punches that made me stagger backwards from the force.
"Footwork," Rob yelled from my corner.
"I know," I groaned quietly, sidestepping another massive power punch.
The round went on for a while in the same fashion. I would block his punches with my forearms and then deliver one or two weak jabs as I tried to get myself away from the ropes. I was about to start a counter-attack when I saw something strange. My opponent was taking slow steps towards me. Only then did I realize that they weren't slow steps.
Spartan time.
I knew I could've ended the fight right then and there with any of the three opening in his guard, but that would've been dangerous if I couldn't control my strength. Instead, I waited for him to throw a low hook meant to hit me below the ribs. That worked fine for me. I lowered my arm and made sure that my elbow was positioned to catch his inner forearm. I knew just how painful that could be.
My plan paid off and his face contorted in a wince as his punch was deflected. Before he could move it back I threw a counter punch with that same arm and hit him right in the jaw. His head snapped to the side along with the rest of his body and he fell down to the floor.
Everything gradually returned to its normal speed and I could feel my heart beating way faster than was probably safe for an average human being. I took a couple of steps back and watched as the referee counted out my opponent. I was declared the winner by knockout and immediately ran up to my corner and raised my arms in triumph. My men and others cheered for my victory. I could really get used to this.
"Frank, sometimes I think there's something seriously wrong with you," Hanna said firmly.
I chuckled. She had a point.
"Not only do you actually renovate your contract without even considering, you enroll yourself in a boxing tournament to get your head hit repeatedly. That's not healthy."
I shrugged, my left cheek was slightly swollen from my latest fight and I had a killer headache. Sometimes I underestimated the strength of normal humans, more than one of those guys had actually had a chance at beating me, especially my latest opponent. That one had managed to last through all twelve rounds before collapsing when the final bell rang. I still had to buy him a beer next time I saw him. I would be bruised all throughout the day and tomorrow morning my ribs would be covered in deep purple blotches. Not so bad considering I had been facing a former professional boxer. Not a champion mind you, but it was still something to be proud of.
"I need something to pass time," I told her.
"You could have gone down to Paris IV," she told me. "Everyone's gone down there at least twice now."
I sighed. I was doing this for her; I couldn't trust myself after the mistakes I had made before. "Fine, I enjoy this. I know it's not good for me, but I have a good time."
"That sounds like your opinion of alcohol," Hanna warned.
She had a point.
"Don't worry, I'm not about to join an underground fight club or something like that."
This time she sighed. "I just don't like seeing you getting hurt, Frank."
I pulled her towards me slowly. "I'm not getting hurt." As she leaned on me I winced exaggeratedly and she frowned slightly.
"You know, sometimes I don't know what I see in you."
It was just a joke, but considering my current state of emotion I couldn't completely hide the look of shock in my face.
"What?" Hanna asked. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," I assured her. "My head does kind of hurt a little."
Hanna at least had the decency to look concerned, even if she was just itching to tell me 'I told you so'. She tilted my head to either side before kissing me in the forehead. "There, all better?"
I rolled my eyes. "Much."
She smiled again. "You ass, I'm trying to help."
She moved from my lap over to my bunk not short after, I sat in my desk chair, occasionally moving my body slightly to test the pain. My next fight wasn't going to be until next week, but with the condition I was in I knew that I could've used more time. My ribs burned and my cheek stung, the swelling would go down soon enough and the bruises would disappear with help form medication, but my body would still be sore and tired from all the work.
Hanna talked about what she had done the past week. She spoke about Udinia and revisiting all the places we had once toured before. I listened attentively , trying to see if she had gone anywhere near the region of the city where I had stayed when I had that full psychiatric workup. Udinia was a big city, just shy of ten million inhabitants, so I was lucky on that count.
For a moment I had the weird image of Hanna and Katie meeting up and becoming fast friends. If that happened then they wouldn't mind sharing.
You're in the real world, Frank.
And the real world sucked.
"Frank, are you ok?"
I shook my head and smiled lightly. "Yeah, yeah… I just dozed off for a little bit. Sorry."
"Maybe you need to go to a doctor…"
"You're a doctor," I reminded her. "I'm just sleepy, Vinter said that I was fine."
She nodded firmly. "Good. At least you had the common sense to visit him after your fight."
"You made me."
"With good reason."
"Of course."
There was a brief lull in the conversation and I took advantage of the silence to ask Hanna a question that I had been wanting to ask for months now. "Hanna, why didn't you leave the Corps? I know your term was supposed to expire before we deployed."
Hanna pushed her feet up the bed and rested her head on my pillow. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "After I heard about Claire I panicked. She was devastated Frank, being drafted back into service like that, just when she was beginning to settle down and really get past her… her suicide attempt."
"You don't-"
"No, no. It just seems likely that I'd end up back in the Corps a year or two from that. Frank, I'm not deluded enough to kid myself into thinking that we have a chance of winning this war."
"All the more reason to leave."
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to leave?"
I shook me head. "No, of course not. I don't like having to say goodbye every time we go into a fight."
"I don't either Frank, but this is our life."
"Not a good one," I mumbled.
She shrugged. "As I was saying, I just didn't want to grow happy and satisfied with my life only to suddenly have all that yanked away from me. It would hurt too much."
It made sense. All my life I had been in a military setting, my uncle was half-obsessed with making me the perfect soldier before ONI got ahold of that idea. Sometimes I thought that the only reason it was so hard for ten-year-old me to adapt to my new life after my parent's deaths was because there was no discernible amount of happiness there. Sure, I might enjoy reading a book or getting a girl drunk, but the rest of my life was dull and routine. No wonder being on leave proved to be so different and exciting even after all this time.
"So you're gonna be unhappy now so that you're not more unhappy later," I stated.
"Well… yeah."
I smiled. "At least we'll be unhappy together."
"Awww," Hanna said, smiling and suddenly jumping up to give me a kiss. "Sometimes you can be really sweet, you know that?"
I only just managed to resist the temptation of groping her violently. "It's because I care," I assured her. "And I love you."
I was extremely surprised when she violently groped me. "Say that again."
"I love you," I obliged, pulling her close.
With the state my body was in, I was about to indulge in a session of incredibly painful sex.
It was worth it.
The championship fight was a grand affair. I hadn't expected it to be this crowded. The simulation room was absolutely packed with what must've been the entire ship's Marine complement as well as every last sailor that wasn't indispensable to the functioning of the ship. Hell, there were even a couple of groups of Marines from the Naverone and other ships. What really did it for me though, was the two camera drones floating around us. They were going to televise the fight. It was very flattering in a way. Alright, alright, it was very flattering in a lot of ways.
My entire platoon had come here to watch me fight; only Hoff, Sandor, and Rob were in my corner, they were the first ones that came to watch and in turn had earned the front-row seats.
This felt good, it did. Nice pair of gloves around my hands, half of a crowded room cheering me on and a good, brave Marine whose ass I was about to kick into kingdom come. We had even been provided with a pair of professional boxing shorts each. Mine were blue and his were red. I don't really know what the big deal with the UNSC and those two colors was, but it was unavoidable.
A sailor dressed in a cheap suit stepped into the ring and rolled his neck before smiling. His amplified voice carried throughout the massive room. He was a charismatic one, getting the crowd excited and making a couple of quick jokes. He gave our names, ranks, and units, allowing for appropriate booing and cheering. I wasn't surprised when more people booed for me than for him, most of the guys here were Marines, and we all know how well they got along with us ODSTs.
"Let's get ready to rumble!"
I loved that phrase, it just worked for me.
I walked into the middle of the ring ready to give my all and received two jabs to the face that were by far the fastest punches I had seen in my entire life. I only just managed to avoid the second one from breaking my nose by lowering my entire head so that his glove hit my forehead. I immediately launched an uppercut that caught him in the stomach and jumped back.
Damn, he's fast.
Both of us squared our shoulders and took more cautious positions. I slowly bobbed from side to side, trying to avoid getting another hit to the face. He did the same, eyeing me with dark, dangerous eyes. I was suddenly more frightened for my personal well-being than I had been in a very long time. For the briefest of moments I thought that facing a Covenant squad might've been easier.
The first round went slowly after the initial hits. Mostly we probed at each other, trying to test our guards. When the bell ran we quickly disengaged and returned to our corners.
"Come on, El-tee," Sandor chastised. "Don't let your guard down, so to speak. You can't let him hit you like that again. He's fast and he hits hard, if you get many more hits like that he'll find an opening and turn your insides into paste. Listen, his guard is a little low, you might sneak in a couple of punches to his forehead if you're quick, that'll get his guard back up and then you can start on doing some damage to the body. You got that?"
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Good."
"Go kick his ass, El-tee," Rob encouraged. "Kick it hard."
"Well, you don't say it a homoerotic way at all," Hoff noted.
I smirked and stood back up in time for the second round. I was going to kick his ass. That second round started out well enough, I hit him twice in the forehead and then once right above the belt. I started circling around him while he silently cursed under his breath. He managed to get past my guard and hit me in the ribs two times before the round ended. I knew that those two hits would bruise, but the adrenaline I was feeling wasn't letting me feel any pain.
"Watch his left hook," Rob told me.
"Agreed," Sandor nodded. "It's fast as lightning."
"I'll just pretend I know about boxing," Hoff stated happily. "Watch out for the free safeties."
I felt like punching Hoff right about then.
Third round was the most embarrassing thing I had felt in my entire life. I received two hits to the face right off the bat, halfway through I got pushed against the ropes and was pounded relentlessly until I managed to get a powerful uppercut right into his jaw. As he stumbled backwards I got another cross into his jaw. After that it only got worse for me, two hits to my left side left me breathing hard and another powerful hook to my head left a dull throbbing that would transform into a headache for the books.
"Fuck," I spat out. "Fuck!"
"Relax El-tee," Sandor told me. "But for Christ's sake keep your fucking guard up! You're lowering your hands! Don't get confident, he's at least as good as you are. Don't. Get. Confident."
"Yeah, yeah," I said, spitting out water. "He's going down."
"That's the spirit!" Rob cheered, "Come on!"
The next round was no better. I managed to get in two powerful punches but he still circumvented my guard several times. I got a hit to the nose that made me believe it was broken and then another one to my chest that stung and pushed me back. I had to avoid a flurry of punches that followed that. I ducked underneath the first two, feeling quite satisfied with myself until another one connected right with my mouth. After that I blocked the rest with my forearms. Right before the round ended I launched a punch out of desperation. It was fast and strong and somehow connected. My opponent rolled sideways until he was facing away and the three steps back before turning back to face me, a stunned expression on his face.
The bell rang.
Thank God!
"Shit," Sandor said. "Shit Lieutenant, what the hell?"
"I don't know," I replied. "He's good, he's very good. If this was full contact…"
"Yeah, you would kill him Lieutenant," Rob said. "But this isn't and you can't. What's wrong? He's better than all your previous opponents, but not good enough to lock you out."
I grunted, it was true. His punches seemed fast, and they were, but for some reason they always landed a little bit faster than I expected them, managed to sneak past my guard, catch me in between steps and make me stumble. If I had to describe it I'd say that he knew exactly when and where to hit. He got past me every time, no matter what I did.
"Stay away from him, he's obviously pounding you too hard," Sandor recommended. "Out of range. Stay out of range like that for the next couple of rounds."
I nodded, it sounded like a reasonable plan considering how bad I was doing.
The fifth round started well enough, I stayed away and he didn't get any punches in. It was only after I attempted to hit him on the side of the head that he returned a powerful hook to my ribs. I had a feeling that if they had been normal bone they would've snapped. I leaned back to avoid a follow up hit to my face and wasn't able to avoid a right cross right into my belly. I doubled up ever so slightly and got an uppercut right into my already-swollen nose.
Next thing I knew I was on my ass and my head was spinning.
"Three!" the ref yelled in my face.
"Get back up!" Sandor urged, banding his hands on the ring. "Stand the fuck up, sir!"
"Four!"
Shit.
"Five!"
I stood up, the ref checked me quickly and declared the round started again. I shrugged off several blows to my arms and forearms and ducked a couple of hooks before delivering the only punch that I connected in the entire round. He recoiled from the powerful punch to the chest but otherwise seemed unharmed.
The bells rang and the round was over.
"Fuck," I said. "Fuck! Fuck!"
"Don't lose your head, sir," Sandor reminded me. "He… he's very fast, his blows only just get through."
"I know that!" I snapped. "I need a way to get through his guard."
Sandor shrugged. "I would know how you could do that if he wasn't punching you all the time."
"Don't give me attitude," I growled.
"I'm here as your coach, not your subordinate," he reminded me.
"Yeah," I agreed. "Sorry."
"Don't worry about me," he told me. "Worry about avoiding his hits."
"Avoid enough of them and he'll make a mistake," Rob reminded me. "Whatever you do El-tee, don't let him connect, make him angry, piss him off."
"I'll try," I said. "And then I'll finally fuck him up."
"You said it, you believe it, now make it happen," Hoff said.
"Wise words from the coach?" Rob asked.
Hoff shook his head. "Grandpa."
I smiled. I was already starting to feel better.
The hook that almost knocked me to the floor for the second time quickly made me change my mind. Round six only went downhill after that. He hit me time after time and I barely managed to duck or block his punches. I hit him on the side of his belt two times, only barely managing to stop his onslaught. The rest of the round consisted on me steadily walking away from the man, trying to guess what he would do and how to counter. It did no good, he closed in and did the unexpected. I had to hug him in order to have him stop punching me twice before the round ended.
"Verga con la puta que te parió," I said as I walked back. It wasn't as much an insult to him as it was to me. I was pissed, not at him, he was good and there was nothing wrong with his game.
On second thought, I wouldn't have minded kicking his skull in once or twice.
I saw Sandor give me a 'are you fucking kidding me?' look and Rob shake his head in disappointment. Hoff looked like he had given up on me.
"Move," Pavel's voice came through the crowd. "Move!"
"I thought you didn't like me getting myself involved in this kind of shit," I said with a weak smile.
"I don't," Pavel grunted, "but I still don't want you giving us Helljumpers a bad name to a measly Marine."
I looked at him and held his gaze. "Pavel… thanks."
"Welcome," he said gruffly. "Bee, move to the side."
"Uh, sure."
"Ok, listen," Pavel began, closing in to me. "Here's what you're going to do: you'll do the same piece of garbage routine and get him to punch you three or four times, close in on him but don't hug him. When you see an opening launch a left upper, then do one of those right downward hooks you do.
"An overhand," I said.
He nodded calmly. "You're fast enough to connect a long swing right after that. Step away and start jumping around, get on his head."
I smiled. "That sounds like a plan."
"Crazy enough to be one of yours too," Pavel said. "Don't embarrass us."
"I won't," I promised. Damn right I won't.
I stood up as the bells for the seventh round rang. I could feel myself frowning, but I knew that it was concentration and not anger. I closed in on my opponent and he repelled me with three quick jabs. I tried again only to get the same result. After that I started moving around, waiting for him to close in some. When he did I attempted the same thing again.
The tarp covering the ring felt comfortable. It wasn't soft, but it felt a lot better than standing up, being punched time after time.
"Get back up!" someone yelled. "Stand the fuck up, you worthless shit!"
Nobody called me worthless.
"Eight!"
I was on my feet in half a second, cracking my head.
"You good?" the referee asked me, a worried look in his eyes. "That punch was enough to knock down a brute."
"I'm perfectly fine, ref," I assured him.
He shrugged. "Ok. Go!"
I swung wildly and felt the short hook to my right side. I shrugged it off and threw a quick uppercut that was only just dodged. I raised my left shoulder to partially deflect another swing for my head and then I was making contact with my opponent's body. His black skin was slick with sweat, mine was no doubt the same.
Let's do this.
I threw the left uppercut only for it to be abruptly stopped just shy of his solar plexus. Shame, that could've been a knockout. Even before my left arm was stopped I was launching a right overhand punch. My entire arm circled vertically and came down with power that would not be denied. I used my weight and as much as my enhanced strength as I could manage in that punch. I felt it connect and guessed that it had hit the Marine right below the eye.
Most people would've expected a hit from the other side after such a powerful punch. A lot of boxers could launch quick punches with the same arm, but nobody could punch as fast with only one arm as they could with two. The Marine knew that just as well as I did. He raised his right arm to block my left fist, a fist that never came. Instead I circled around with my right arm, faster than even the fastest boxer, and connected a powerful swing to his head before sidestepping.
He slammed into the ropes and shook his head there. I jumped up and down like a giddy kid, overdoing it in order to piss him off more. I punched my gloves together and smiled. I didn't even have to fake the smile.
"Now we start for real," I said through my mouth guard.
"Finally," he grunted in reply, a small trickle of blood sliding from his eyebrow.
He threw two swings in quick succession. Had I not known better I would've known he was also superhuman. I ducked underneath the first one and blocked the second one with a decidedly non-boxing move. I raised my right arm and caught his left forearm with my right, stopping his punch before it gained power. I then used my left hand to punch him on his biceps. It was a move that I knew would weaken his strong arm.
As his arm slackened I threw a right swing that had him against the corner. The Marine had time to huddle into a tight guard and his forearms caught every punch I threw but the last. That last one hit him in the left side, right below the ribs. He doubled over and then the bell rang.
I walked back to the corner smiling as I did.
"Great work, El-tee," Sandor complimented, setting up the stool and handing me water. "He leaves a small space in between his arms open for a fast jab after he blocks any hooks or swings to the body."
"He's right," Pavel agreed. "And he hunches down when he's closer, try and see if you can hit him with another downswing."
"Overhand," I corrected.
"Whatever."
Round Eight started and I was feeling good.
My first punch connected with his glove, but was hard enough to push him sideways. I quickly swung with my left to jerk his head back. The second punch hit him right on the ear, but opened my torso for a quick uppercut to my stomach. I took a step back and returned with a right cross, putting the full weight of my body behind it. Had it hit his face it would've broken his nose or any other bone, but he somehow managed to cross his arms in front of him and took three steps backwards form the punch.
I was on him in seconds, hitting everywhere. I punched his arms and gloves more times than I could count before I reminded Sandor's advice. A quick left hook demonstrated that he did indeed leave a small gap, another right swing allowed my left glove to slide through his arms and hit him right above the navel. I could feel that he hadn't had time to tighten his abs and had the wind knocked out of him.
From that position he launched a right punch that I only just dodged. I saw his fist stop and move at supernatural speeds at my face. It was too close to avoid, but he managed to put some power into it and my head shook violently. After that he delivered three quick punches into my ribs, the titanium ones. The skin felt it, even if my ribs did not.
I took three quick steps backwards and feinted another powerful right cross. He instinctively protected his face and chest, allowing me to throw a hook into his left side. With my left hand I connected with his jaw as he reached down to cover his belly. His body acted without thinking and his hands went back up immediately, buying me enough time to hit him with an uppercut right to the sternum.
This time I heard him wheeze as I drove all the air out of him.
And then the round was over. A few more seconds and I would've had him.
"Good job," Sandor complimented, rubbing petroleum jelly on a cut that I hadn't even noticed. After that he rubbed my ribs. The other guy had managed to break the skin with a boxing glove. I cannot explain just how hard that is to do to the ribs. "Gunny, you got any suggestions?"
"Keep on doing what you're doing," Pavel said. "Don't allow him to recover. Frank… you lost the first six rounds bad, you're going to need a knockout."
"Knockout it is then. I'll work on the body, go in for the kill on the eleventh."
Sandor nodded. "Do your thing."
The Marine changed his strategy on the ninth round. He hunched and closed his arms over his body. I punched and punched but his gloves blocked most of my blows. He was good.
Despite the excellent defense, he couldn't take my enhanced strength forever. At one point he tried to sneak through my side, delivering a jab in order to prevent me from hitting him as he did so. Had he not thrown the jab his plan would've worked just fine. His right glove flew at me at an agonizingly slow pace. I knew that I had him then. I was going to rupture this fucker's liver.
I punched as fast and as hard as I could with my left arm. My body seemed to move too slow, but even before his jab had reached me I was already connecting with his body. I saw him jerk and shake as I hit him and then my head snapped backwards from the jab. I threw a blind right hook that connected with nothing but air and then stepped back, afraid of where he'd gone.
I opened my eyes, I hadn't realized that I had closed them. I saw that the Marine had indeed felt the force of my punch. He was standing on his right knee, with one glove on the tarp to prop himself up. He looked at me and shook his head before trying to stand back up. His body wouldn't support his weight and he fell back down.
"Four!" the ref shouted.
Sound started flooding my ears. Cheers and curses and hollers and more.
"Get up Sarge!" one of the Marines in his corner yelled.
"On your feet!" another shouted through cupped hands.
"Five!"
"Great job Frank!" Pavel urged. "That's my man!"
I turned around and spread both of my arms to my side in triumph. I shook them slightly and the crowd roared their approval. The fight wasn't quite over just yet, but everybody loved a showman when it came down to boxing.
"Six!"
"Seven!"
"Eight!"
The count stopped.
I turned to see the Marine stumble sideways slightly before shaking himself back into action.
I shrugged. "Still got half a round to knock you back down," I told him.
"You're welcome to try," he replied with a fierce expression that might've just been a grin.
The fight resumed and he ducked a swing before hitting me with an uppercut that I never saw coming.
"That how you gonna knock me down?"
I shook my head and threw three quick hooks to his head, ribs, and head again. Only the last one connected, but it was enough to turn his head completely sideways.
"No. That's how!"
He had an annoying little mustache that was just begging to be hit. I punched away until I finally managed to achieve my goal. I watched in satisfaction as he spat out blood and punched at my head. I blocked it with my glove, but I still felt the impact. He was strong. Too strong.
The round ended and we nodded at each other before stepping back into our respective corners.
"Don't stop hitting him!" Pavel growled. "He had more life in this round, he's not out yet. You need to hit him hard as many times as you can manage. There's no way you'll catch up to him on the scorecards."
"Those power punches of yours seem to be working. I don't like them," Sandor said, "but he can't hit you fast enough when you throw those. He's tired, but as Gunny said…"
"Yeah, I got it."
I drank water, regained my breath, and tried to look confident before the bells for the tenth round rang loudly.
"Let's go!"
I was excited now, I had a chance to redeem myself after being thoroughly humiliated by the shorter Marine. He wasn't even that muscular, he was just strong.
I had a pretty good start, slamming several strong hits on his body and a couple on his face. Both of us were huffing and puffing, trying to get as much air into our lungs as we could with each breath. I had a hard time keeping a steady rhythm with all the counter punches and jabs I had to block or avoid. I was doing good and was focused, that was the only thing that allowed me to avoid being pounded like a college slut. The Marine wasn't as focused as he had been on the previous rounds and so earned the role of the aforementioned college slut. I had him against a corner and was hitting him as fast as I could manage when the bell rang.
I walked straight back to my corner. I was only just beginning to feel the strain on my arms. Throwing punches as fast as possible wasn't something that you did easily, it was incredibly tiring if you tried to sustain it for any considerable amount of time. I was also starting to feel my stomach lurch as if I wanted to throw up. This business was beginning to tire me.
"Good work for the most part," Sandor said.
"Most part?" I managed to ask.
"Yeah," Pavel agreed. "He managed to get in some good punches."
"I didn't notice." Really, I hadn't.
"Well, he did. You have to keep hitting him bad like that, El-tee," Sandor told me, "but you can't allow yourself to be hit as well. He's too far ahead of you on the cards and one luck punch could have you back on the floor."
"Are we working on the three falls rule?" Pavel asked.
I nodded.
"No more falls, ok?"
"I won't fall down," I assured him calmly. "Water."
"Here," Sandor said. "Remember the gap in between his gloves. He hasn't noticed how you're getting through yet, but he's done some pretty good bobbing. Try to avoid any wide swings or he'll get on your ribs."
I nodded again and swallowed some of the water. "Any other tips? I want to knock him down on his ass, this time for good."
"Last time he was on his knees," Hoff muttered.
Pavel ignored him. "Up, down, up, up. It worked last time, keep trying different combinations, I've got nothing concrete for you right now."
"Better come up with something, coach," I said, addressing Sandor. "My head's starting to hurt."
"It's almost over," he said. "You can end it quicker."
Schitzo chose that moment to appear, dressed in full boxing paraphernalia: robe and gloves. "What was the saying? Float like a butterfly, sting like a bumblebee?"
"Like a bee," I said, low enough that nobody would understand through my mouth guard.
"That's right, like a bee."
I stood up and Sandor dragged his stool underneath the ropes, wishing me good luck as he waited for the round to start. It didn't take that long, three seconds was all that was left on the resting period, and after that me and that Marine would return to beating the hell out of one another. My body was throbbing, even if my adrenaline levels kept it in check for now, I was certainly going to end up in the hospital after this.
"The floor's been missing you," he taunted.
I scowled slightly. "You'll do for a replacement."
"That I would like to see."
The eleventh and second-to-last round began in earnest, with the Marine hitting me twice in the mouth before ducking underneath a right cross. After that he ran straight into my left fist, sliding two steps backward before actually jumping forward and slamming his right glove directly into my chest.
I started getting worried when I realized that I was backed right into the corner. A flurry of fast punches landed all around me, even of most of them were blocked or deflected some of them managed to score hits. I bobbed from side to side, attempting to spot a quick opening.
"Use the ropes, El-tee!" Sandor cried. "The ropes!"
I immediately knew what he was talking about, even if it hadn't been for the reason most would imagine. This time I had Rob to thank for. One of his movie nights had consisted of a boxing film based on the life of one of the greatest boxers in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. I kept forgetting his first name, but the movie was called Ali.
"Ali!" Rob suddenly screamed. "Ali, the movie!"
That's the one.
I slid sideways, managing to move despite the punches that kept on coming. After a few painful seconds I was in between two corners.
I took a deep breath.
Then I leaned back and started moving sideways and up and down and in every conceivable way. I didn't stop no matter what, only adjusting the direction I was moving in if I read a punch before it struck. It was a risky technique, cornering myself in order to make my opponent tire himself. His blows didn't all miss, but the glancing blows didn't hurt much and they tired out the Marine. It went like that for about thirty seconds, with the crowd getting more worked up and urging my opponent to connect a hit.
"Watch," Schitzo said.
I looked up and saw the opening. I slammed my gloved fist right into his chin, snapping his head upwards and positioning perfectly for a right hook.
"Yeah!" Rob hollered. "Don't stop now!"
I didn't. I hit him again, and again, and again. The two previous punches should've knocked out any man, the second one would've been enough to crack his jaw, but he just shrugged them off like it was nothing. It was right about then that I started considering going all-out on him augmentation and all. I was barely managing to keep up with him even with my speed and strength, if I could just hit him a little bit harder then he surely would've fallen down.
Before I could continue that train of thought he jumped back and resumed a guarded stance. I circled around him and prepared to engage. I wasn't ready for the vicious punches that he threw, barely even bothering to protect himself. They hit me like sledgehammers, shaking me around like a ragdoll before I managed to get in a haymaker to his forehead.
He didn't budge, instead just kept on hitting me. I realized what he was doing, he was trying to land one good hit, knock me out before I knocked him out.
The fight switched from a very fast-paced, contact heavy boxing match to a full out slugfest.
"That how you want it?" I asked after he landed three straight hits on my stomach.
"You know you love it baby," he replied.
I quickly shut him up with three straight punches. I put my full weight behind all of them, pushing him back into the ropes. In return he threw a right swing with such force that even after I placed my arm between his glove and my body I felt like it had connected.
That bought him enough time to get away from the ropes and engage again.
I didn't like it. It was like a bar fight where my opponent fought back, managed to score serious hits, and went on for a very long amount of time.
It wasn't like a bar fight at all.
I connected at least two dozen punches after that moment. He connected a few less than me, but I still returned to my corner with a throbbing jaw that would swell twice to its original size.
"El-tee, you've got to knock him out, after all those hits he scored there's no way you can catch up to him."
"I scored more than he did this round."
"Yeah, but not by a lot," Pavel came in.
"Sir, you have to knock him out and fast," Rob said.
"Final stretch El-tee," Hoff tossed his two cents' worth in. "Get him on the floor."
"I will, I will," I assured them. "I can do it."
"Yeah you can," Pavel said. "Just make sure you do."
Wise words from my best friend. "Asshole."
"That's my boy!"
Twelfth round. All or nothing. Time to kick his ass.
The slugfest was resumed with me managing to gain the upper hand early on. I scored hit after hit, but also took some hard punches. One hit to my ribs felt like they had actually been cracked despite their augmentations and another cross to my nose finished breaking it. He was bleeding from the nose, eyebrow, and mouth. I wasn't faring much better, with my mouth and nose bleeding like crazy. At least the blood wasn't going to get in my eyes.
"Go down!"
I punched down only to predictably meet his gloves. That's where he had made his mistake, his mind figured that it was still a fight with no strategy. My right fist connected with his nose, breaking it. I didn't hold back, punching him hard enough to knock out an elite. He didn't drop so I punched him again. This time he fell to the floor, blood spraying the white tarp.
"One!"
"Two!"
I paced, watching him struggle to get into a seating position before taking several quick breaths and glaring at me with dark eyes. He pressed both of his gloves against the floor and his muscles tensed as he attempted to put himself back on his feet.
"Seven!"
"Eight!"
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.
"Nine!"
Yes!
He stood up.
I couldn't help but smile at his incredibly show of willpower. If I ever met this guy again I would make sure to get to know him, he seemed to be good enough to be a Helljumper. And that's not praise that is easily given.
"Is that all you've got?" he asked me.
"Just about," I admitted, throwing wide swings and catching them in the gloves.
He returned the strikes with two quick jabs to the sternum. I recoiled from the punches and almost launched a kick on pure instinct, but instead managed to turn it into a stomp as I punched with my strong arm. His nose was twisted beyond recognition now, and that punch didn't help. He slammed into the ropes, using both hands to hold himself up.
I approached for the kill and received a hook to the liver for my troubles. I doubled over and took several steps back in pain. It was a lot of pain.
I felt his gloved fist slam into my cheekbone and for a moment I thought I was falling to the floor. I couldn't allow that to happen, and somehow I managed to stay afoot. From down there all I could do was throw an uppercut.
Instead I did two.
It was ridiculous; you don't see anybody throwing two uppercuts at the same time unless he's a little boy playing at superhero. That's precisely why he didn't expect them. He blocked my right punch but not the left and almost fell down for a third time. I was wide-eyed at him now, he couldn't have withstood that much punishment. No human being could.
Maybe they can… maybe you're just not as inhuman as you thought.
I kept on hitting him, there was less than half a minute left in the bout and I had to get him back on the floor for good. He blocked, and ducked, and bobbed, and weaved, but my punches were hard and my attack relentless. It was a good effort and it was almost enough.
The round ended with both of us still on our feet.
The crowd cheered and suddenly pain washed all over me.
I stumbled slightly and watched as the Marine slid down to the floor, using the ropes to slow his fall. He took a deep breath and smiled a cocky smile at me. I shrugged in response and took two steps back before I lost my balance and slipped sideways. Somehow I grabbed ahold of the third rope, buying Pavel enough time to jump in and gently lower me down. I vaguely saw the doctors coming to examine both of us, trying to see if we weren't brain dead from all the hits.
I answered their questions and managed to get back to my feet when the commentator started speaking.
"Ladies and gentlemen, that is quite possible one of the most amazing spectacles I have witnessed in my entire life! These two men deserve a place right next to the great ones in boxing history. I cannot explain just how amazed I am by the quality of this fight. We saw it all, every style, every combination, every part of the body punished. They took hits heavy enough for brutes or elites and still they fought on!"
The crowd roared in approval. It was a nice little detail, using us as examples for humanity's fighting spirit.
He wasn't done yet. "The fight was a close one, our judges, three smart AIs from different ships, have found a victor. It was a split decision."
I almost gasped with the rest of the crowd. AIs usually agreed on anything.
The commentator gave the scores in a painfully slow and dramatic voice while Pavel cut my gloves from my hands. One of the judges had given the victory to me and the other one to the Marine. I was above him by a margin of one point and he was above me by a margin of two points.
I still had to wait to hear the third and final judge.
The commentator droned and I raised my eyebrows when I saw that there was only a two points margin between the winner and loser.
"The winner of the Flawless Boxing Championship is…" there was a drum roll. "Sergeant Avery Junior Johnson!"
The room went wild and my shoulders dropped.
I approached him and patted him in the shoulder before shaking his hand. He nodded in reply.
"You put up a good fight," he said gruffly.
I nodded and smiled. "It was almost enough." I saluted in respect.
He returned the salute and then his small entourage had him up in shoulders, congratulating him on his victory.
Thanks to SilasWhitfield for proofreading this chapter.
Twenty pages of boxing bonanza. I'm sorry, I just watched The Fighter and have to admit that I honestly loved that movie. Besides, I've had the idea since you guys kept repeatedly asking for Johnson and ever since Marquez beat Pacquiao I thought that it was about time I gave him to you. I did my best to have both the fighters come off as incredibly badass while making Johnson more so than Frank. To me Sgt. Johnson has always been the most incredibly badass character from the Halo universe, being able to keep up with the chief even while being a simple SPARTAN I. Of course, I also wanted Frank to remain the same badass that he has always been, so I made this into my image of a movie boxing match, with everybody landing punches everywhere.
Besides, I had lots of fun writing this. I like boxing as a sport, making this chapter was easy to write. I know that at points the descriptions of the blows became a little repetitive, but you try saying that Frank ducked underneath a hook in eight different ways.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Avery Johnson. This is the first time he has appeared here, but I promise that it will not be the last. The Siege of Paris IV is coming up and with it more and more battle and mayhem for you to enjoy.
Please let me know what you thought about the chapter and stay strong.
-casquis