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 Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 10:24 am
At the age of ten, he would never say that he was a scardy cat; he was pretty adventurous and fearless. The first one to run headfirst in a battle of water balloons, or even to retrieve a fly ball in the spooky house across the street, it was all the same to him. It was just a rush and a thrill and the ache to feel more of it. He would come home with a few extra bruises and made his poor frazzled mom and overworked dad lose a few hairs over his fights an injuries that made them save a little less money than they wished. It was just a blessing that his dad was a physician with his own practice, so first aid was never far from his front door, and a really good healthcare and dental plan to boot.
Even though he loved his fights, a little too much, it was getting out of hand. Brawls in the park became a daily basis in between flunking his English exams and barely passing math. He just didn’t find the rush in studying. Really, where’s the excitement in the Pythagorean theory? Bo-ring. It was impossible to tear him away from fighting, so instead of doing it in the streets, they decided to bring it indoors under the careful eye of a sporting hobby. Boxing.
It was the greatest gift he could get at the age of Eleven. Wide eyes were looking around excitedly as the watched the boxing gym’s patrons go about their afternoon activities. It was a heavy smell of sweat and determination in the air, muggy from all the body heat emitted from the fighters and training. In between it all was a giant raised platform, raised high over the eleven year olds head as two people were standing within the raised platforms boundaries. It looked like a giant throne from his standpoint as he watched with an unblinking stare.
There was a man in there, the light streaming in from windows made his skin glow, following the contours of his form as sweat drenched hair fluttered wildly as he struck at the other a few paces away. The other person didn’t look as young as he slouched a bit in his posture. He had the strangest mitten on that the boy could not figure out, it was too warm in here to feel cold so why did he have those funny looking gloves on. Now that he noticed, the younger man had gloves to, they looked like giant hands compared to the old guys flat ones.
The boy watched as they connected in a wild flurry of movements and it looked like so much fun. It felt rather painful to merely watch it from below them as he pouted over how unfair it was to not have a turn at it. He settled on mimicking the movements of the mittens with his own fists as he bashed the closed fist into his open palm with a look of determination on his face. Maybe he could figure out the magic behind the movement that looked so flawless and fast that he just didn’t have.
He was so busy at the repetitive motion that he didn’t notice that the thudding sounds have stopped until he looked up to see how the fighter did it again. All he saw was the older gentleman leaning over the stretchy ropes to look back down at him, it felt like a predatory stare one would give to a hunk of meat, getting picked for a meal. “Anythin’ I can do for ya, kid?” He asked in a low rumble, the years of smoke must have taken a toll on his voice as the boy rumpled through his jacket to clutch on to a neatly folded letter in his sweaty hand and he held it up to the old man, his arm stretching as far as he could to give it to him. “My father said he called you earlier about me.” He replied back, trying to keep a calm face in the elder’s presence. He had an intimidating scowl, one that said danger. He may love to fight, but he knew when there was a person he stood no chance against, even if they had a few years on them or not.
The old man took the letter from the boy with a grunt of noncommitment as he skimmed through its words, apparently with a look of mild surprise and the barest of smiles. “So, your Dean’s kid huh? C’mon up, I have ta look ya over.” He bit out as he pulled up the bottom rope. They boy’s heart started to thunder in his chest as he pushed his form up onto the mat and crawled his way in and may his way over to the man with the scary face. “ Stand here wit’ your arms held out an don’t move less I move them for you, got it?” The boy nodded and kept his face stern as he did what was instructed, he didn’t want to get on the man’s bad side with all these people around, even if they were engrossed in their own training. “Got it.” He told him back as he held his arms out loosely.
The old man wasted no time as he moved his arms back and forth, using a firm grip on the arms and shoulders as he kneaded and bent the limbs back and forth. The boy cringed at the applied pressure but it wasn’t as painful as a punch, just wasn’t expected for the guy to have such a grip at his supposed age. “Well, your muscles are in good condition, but lets see how well, you can take a punch.” the man told him as his stance changed into a more deadly form, it was compact and his grey eyes hardened into steel behind heavy handed fists. “Ready brat?” The boy was stunned by how fast the change occurred behind old man to hardened brawler, even more so by the deadly aura he seemed to be emitting, it was scary, but exciting at the same time, he was sure he heard the clattering of his scared knees going mad below him. The size and strength difference was too great, he was going to get walloped! Fear and anxiety was rising up in his body like an all encompassing foam, spreading slowly but surely, reaching into every crevice, but he had to try, his father sent him here, it couldn’t have been for a bad reason. “R-ready!.”
All of a sudden, he felt the air leave his chest in a massive heave, did he even take a breath there, or did he imagine that? All doubt flew away in an instant as a crushing pain filled in to take its place, like it went to occupy the place where oxygen used to be. “Look at you, your still on your feet, not bad kid.” He told him with an appreciative whistle. He would have grinned back at him but it rather hard to catch his breath, he was only doing to much to not buckle and fall over. “So, what’s your name kid?” he asked the ten year old while ushering him over to a stool in the ring. “It’s Leon, sir.” He told him behind gasps for air. “Well, Leon my boy, your going to be under my wing. Welcome to my boxing gym, ol’ Kirk here will help you learn boxing professionally.”
Kirk..... He liked the name. It was a strong, confident and simple name. It suited his Sensei well. "Yes sir Mr. Kirk!"
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Posted: Sun Apr 24, 2011 10:24 am
Leon never got to actually go back into the ring after that for the last three years, Kirk had him focus on training his body before learning any techniques. Not to mention that he didn’t allow Leon in if he failed any of his classes. It was a beautiful balance of grades and training that had both him and his parents happy, no more brawls in the street and good grades. All the pushup and running left him just too tired to do anything more than study and sleep. He was still happy with it all though, it just meant that soon he would learn something even better. Not long after he was learning hooks and jabs at the age of fourteen, uppercuts and body blows a year after. It was a great start to his career, the techniques weren’t hard for him to follow, just took time to master and blend into his own style. His aggression was kept in check from all the training, fights were a thing of the past. All he needed now was to practice.
The alleyway he took when he went home from the gym at night was something special on his trip. It was a barren place that barely had a soul in its path other then the occasional rodent the fled quickly from sight. It was actually pretty well lit to boot that made it a place where getting attacked and mugged wasn’t exactly opportune for the attacker. The light would be cast against the wall to create great looming shadows of its passerby, ever so slightly ahead of the object like it was a race that it would always win. Shadows hung about everywhere from the discarded piles of furniture and metal pipes and fixtures, not to mention his overcast running ahead on the large stark white wall. It was worth the scary trek home at night through this place, not just for the gym, but the chance to shadowbox.
It was a wild flurry of movements from agile limbs at Leon ducked and weaved from imaginary strikes from an enshrouded enemy. The burn in his limbs were getting used to the pace of the fight as he inched closer and closer to a safe haven, he just needed to knock out his shadow and be on his way, just one good strike. He watched the shadow on the wall as he danced around, giving a feint of a false jab before closing in with a haymaker to its dark jaw. And it moved, just slightly to the side, as if it knew what was coming and the strike slipped into an area of white along the wall as its arm moved in, the shadow getting larger and larger with its counter punch, the other shadows seemed to have moved in, like spectators to a grand bout for a title as the headlight flickered and grew dim. It was too late to put a solid guard up as Leon tightened his arms and legs and got ready for the impact and despite all his training did the one thing you weren’t supposed to do. He closed his eyes.
A moment passed, and another as he never got to feel and roll with the phantom blow. Peeking from behind his guard with his heart thundering in his chest, the alleyway and shadow had gone back to being mere shadows, puppets on their strings to the creators and animators, and nothing more. He gave a light tap to the darkened patch on the wall with a quick shuffle backwards to a safe distance, not wanting to take any chances, but his shadow only moved along with him and definitely didn’t retaliate. Did he merely imagine it, was the strikes to his head already affecting his brain? He didn’t want to dwell on such silly thoughts, a shadow fighting back.. it was preposterous!
He would only tell his parents that he left the dim lamp on at his desk littered with classwork notes and boxing magazines because he was too tired to take it off. That’s all and nothing more if they asked.
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Posted: Thu Apr 28, 2011 2:39 pm
The age of sixteen brought a variety of changes; a deeper voice, more hair and a taller stature and enough training and practice to get involved in boxing matches. It was a great day indeed as he walked through the alleyway in broad daylight, his shadow bowing at his feet instead of looming on the wall in front of him. It was time for his first real match against an opponent not from the gym. To say that he was excited was a drastic understatement, as he jogged in place waiting for the light to change. It was a beautiful sunset that would serve as a lovely backdrop to his first bout. Hopefully it would be one of many successful matches in his future. “You haven’t been doing much shadowboxing here as of late.” A rich tenor voice said behind the explosive boxer. Ice ran through Leon’s veins so fast at the thought of the imaginary shadow encounter. He was so taken aback by being snuck up on, that he whirled around and threw out a punch blindly. The only thing that was behind him was a figure enshrouded by a black cloak, not a speck of skin or features was seen, like it was the incarnation of a shadow given physical form, and it stopped the punch with a single index finger. “Now now, no need to get testy, I’m just here to talk.” It said, using its other hand to pull the punch down and away from its supposed body.
Leon just stood there, his careful gaze upon the figure behind slit eyes. Mentally he was aghast; all his physical training was deflected away like a fly after something sweet. He should have felt offended by such treatment, but it spoke about something not many others knew about, the shadows. “Well then, start talking, I’ve got something important to get to.” He told him after jerking back his wrist, checking it over to see if it was ok. The figure moved around the sidewalk with effortless grace as it swerved to and fro, evading the various light sources around, like an elegant waltz. “Yes, the gallant and brave boxer in training; fierce and powerful. Yet it is the same person who shies away from the shadows whenever he’s alone.” It said with a melodic tone humming though various syllables, like it was the tune of the song in its head that it danced effortlessly to. “But for good reason, you can sense something wrong, not many do. YOU know it, I know it and certainly THEY know it.” It said, motioning over to the alleyway that had plagued Leon’s nightmares with horrid visions he dare not tell others.
“How do you know this?” Leon asked back, holding out his arms in front of the cloaked person, to keep the figured focused on its answer and not the distracting flurry of its feet. It had information and he’d be damned if he let it slip away without telling him what he wanted to know. “It doesn’t matter how I know this just that I do. Not to mention that if you can see them, you can fight them” It said as it circled round the poor boxer like a piece of meat. “Someone like you just may have what it takes to fight against what lies ahead.” It purred out while the shadows in the alleyway seemed to writhe from it words, shrinking back at impossible angles from the light. “You should think about this offer, I’ll be back to hear your answer when the time arrives.” It said in a low rumble as it floated away down the street on unseen limbs and a stride that never faltered. “Fear the shadows young fighter and feel no shame about it, the shadows fear you too.”
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Posted: Thu Apr 28, 2011 3:14 pm
Sure 4 rounds into the fight Leon landed a graceful Knock out punch, but it was four rounds too many to get to that result. It felt like a robot taking his place in the ring, moving but not thinking about the fight, just going through the motions he practiced for years, Kirk had trained him well. While the dancing of finely tuned bodies was going on, his head was in a maelstrom of confusion. There was another that knew of the shadows.
DODGE, DUCK, BODY BLOW.
Someone else that saw the horrible images that ran amok just out of sight.
GUARD, COUNTER.
That knew of the horrible, guttural whispers that followed behind like mournful cry echoing all around.
GUARD, GUARD, CLINCH AGAINST THE ROPES.
There was a way to be free of them, a way to fight back. Fighting was all that Leon knew, the only friends he bothered to keep was the ones from the gym. He made his motions to be a good person, a good student, a good son and when a lass’s parent’s were away, a good sport in the sack. But to be a good fighter? No not one bit, not good, but great, the Best.
JAB, JAB, COMBO, FEINT, UPPERCUT.
Only being the best fighter would be allowed in his book, and going up against, confronting and conquering a fear would allow that to happen. It was a blur of warbled voices around him as the congratulated him, But Leon knew that this was nothing.
There was always a bigger match never too far away to take on.
It took two years, two years of training and pain but he was here. Waiting in a locker room and was twice the size of what he was used to. The roar of the crowd could be heard from all the way in the back where he we getting ready. His head was bent low under a towel as the sound of his heart was thundering in his chest like a war drum. A match, not just a ranking match, but a title match. A chance to be the youngest Middleweight champion at the age of 18. His nerves were shot, all the pressure was horrible. His parent’s were out in the crowd for heaven’s sake! Leon was on the verge of running out of the coliseum like he was on fire. “Ahhh this is extremely nerve wracking!”
“Already panicking little lamb fighter?” To say that the sudden voice nearby was startling wasn’t enough as he went careening off the bench onto the solid ground with a thud. “No need to fall to the ground over me, though I have no problem with that personally.” It said with silky smooth sarcasm. Leon could only look at him like a gaping fish gasping for air. “How did you get in here?” He asked with mild curiosity. It simply walked up to the boxer and waved its arms in a comical jazz hand fashion. “ITS MAGIC. But enough about silly things, its time.” It said in finality as it closed the space between them. “Ready Lamb?”
Crap. Crap crap crap. “Right now? But… what about my match?” Leon asked in genuine concern. He worked so hard for this, could he really just turn away from this now? “What about your match?” it asked with a venomous hiss, making Leon jerk his head back from the motion, reflexes taking control of the sudden motion. “Your match, it means nothing, this is nothing.” It bit out with invisible punctuations after each word. “Those shadows will never leave; they will seek you out and haunt you for the rest of your life. You can simply deal with it and face your doom, or do something about it. Its your call.” It told him simply as it made its way out of the room normally instead of just…. Vanishing.
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Posted: Thu Apr 28, 2011 11:06 pm
There wasn’t much to think about at that point. “I won’t back down from them, not now not ever.” He said with a defiant chin jutting out into the air and his nostrils flared out in controlled anger. The figure didn’t seemed impressed with his display as it gave the barest of glances back while in mid stride. “So, I take that for a yes then?” it drawled out before taking another step forward.
“…………YES.”
No one would ever know how the fighter vanished without a trace in the heavily occupied building without being seen. The fight was declared as a disqualification with the defending champion winning by default. The only thing left behind in the locker room was a damp towel and a forsaken opportunity.
Would he reach the age of nineteen? That remains to be seen.
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Posted: Mon May 02, 2011 12:49 am
A sudden, muffled echo boomed out, the sound reverberating off the walls. It occurred again and again; it was not the steady rhythm of a heartbeat. No, these were footsteps. "I'm disappointed in you," a voice as rich as cream and as smooth as silk stated softly. "You had so much potential, only to give up so easily in the very end. Tsk, tsk." It was impossible to see. The footsteps didn't stop, the pacing boom, boom nearly drowning the speaker's voice.
"You're down for the count, boy. If you don't get up, your match -" the speaker stopped completely, the last echos of their footsteps fading into the open air. "No, your life will be forfeit. You are in a coma. If you choose to lie here, you will die. But you cannot get up that easily. Not all fights can be won with your fists."
The soft hiss of fabric could be heard as the unseen figure moved. A loud BOOM! errupted from their general vicinity. "Ten."
BOOM! "Nine."
BOOM! "Eight."
You were down for the count. You needed to get up. But... you know you can't stand up on your own. If there was something, anything to pull yourself up with -- wait! What was that? You can feel something to your right.
BOOM! "Five."
BOOM! "Four."
Do you dare reach out and grab it?
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Posted: Mon May 02, 2011 2:35 pm
It was such a blissful sleep. It wasn’t even in stark, endless darkness, it was all white. Did he win his match? It was so strange why could Leon not remember the fight, it just happened didn’t it? There was no crowd cheering their hearts out, no jeers no hollering, no nothing. Just silence, silence that made his ears ring from the lack of any sound present. It was only punctuated with the faintest of beeps that made it seem like it wasn’t there. Did he win, he wanted to be the champion so badly, and all those years of training for that title match, how could he not remember the bout that could change his life? Was his memory messed up after all the beatings to the head that he took up to now? It was just so exhausting to open his eyes back into the world of shadows and face the things that lurk out of view that many people turn a blind eye to. He couldn’t just turn and ignore the ever present danger around him and everything that he held dear. That was not how he was raised and trained to think.
The silence that he was drowning in was shattered by the ever consistent sounds of a slowly approaching stampede. Oh god above, it sounded like his overseas extreme cardio training, the running of the bulls. “Ugh no more training, didn’t I just win a title? Can’t I take a break from that?” he thought to himself while he snuggled closer to the bright light. The voice that projected itself just barely behind the heavy footfalls was not only very soothing, but memorable, was it a news reporter that snuck into the break room? No privacy for the athletes I suppose. The faint voice was saying things that just didn’t make sense, why couldn’t he place where he heard this voice before?
"You had so much potential, only to give up so easily in the very end. Tsk, tsk."
“What? I had? No I didn’t give up anything, giving up isn’t in my style. Let me find the belt I won and beat the smug shadowy voice over the head.” He said to himself as he struggled to open his eyes, but could not find the strength to do so. “Wait…. Shadowy voice?” he mumbled to himself in his world of white.
All of a sudden the world of white was flooded with imaged of recent events. Like highlights that would be watched and rewatched and analyzed over and over again by washed up athletes that missed their glory days. Images of when he ran out the room before his bout that he never went to. His suited form of black and orange running about screaming his head off and firing a gun he had no idea how to use its sights. And how could he forget the last image of the girl he left behind when he plummeted into darkness, the shadows that loomed in that pit were massive, writhing back and forth in a muted laugh. The sequential images of that moment were replayed over and over by his own volition, watching every bit of movement that happened, how his legs never found their bounce or footwork and stayed there like solid stone. It was shameful for him and his trainers.
"You're down for the count, boy.” The voice said to him in its buttery sweet acidic tone like it tends to do, the sarcasm was always present and penetrating like a viper’s bite. “If you don't get up, your match- No, your life will be forfeit. You are in a coma. If you choose to lie here, you will die.”
Leon could have felt the blood in his veins turn into solid ice at that moment. “Its right he did fall, and fell hard, was this how a knockout felt?” He asked himself without letting the words pass his lips. Was this the end? No I would not just lie here and die. Never giving up. That was his hard learned lesson in life. All he had to do was pick up his form from the solid, cool mat of white and get to his feet. He tried with all of his might to send the command from his brain to the rest of his body to comply. Just this once to defy the body’s wants and move, just a simple twitch of a leg please. The limbs that he relied on to stand and run and takes every blow that was offered to him finally put up its own fight and were winning.
“But you cannot get up that easily. Not all fights can be won with your fists." The voice told him mockingly at the most opportune time like always. His fists had indeed failed him this time and what did he have to show for it. A coma that threatened to keep him for eternity and memories that would never leave him, that played endlessly like his glory days were over. He threw out his arm in frustration to the side, more surprised than anything to feel the limb move; at least he had his arm and fist to rely on when everything else went horribly wrong.
TEN!
NINE!
EIGHT!
Even with dulled senses, Leon could feel the cooler touch of metal on his skin, as he felt down the side of the expanse of metal, picturing the way it would look on the glory wall of white. The timer that was counting down held no mercy as it sounded out the next number but there was something more important to focus on, something he could feel, in his hand and his heart. It had a sharp edge as his middle finger and its nerves noticed by the slight nick in the pad of his finger and traced down the rest of the edge carefully before reaching the blunt side of a circular tube.
FOUR!
THREE!
His wall showed him all that he needed to see, it was a Broadsword. Taking the handle in his roughened hand, he felt the strength flow into him from top to bottom, and his legs found the willpower to move yet again.
TWO!
It was a sudden sight, from a prone body that didn’t move barely an inch, to a lumbering form struggling to stand on its own accord, leaning his frame on the broadsword that dug into the solid floor to keep upright.
ONE!
“I told you before; I would never back down, not now not ever!” Leon told the voice that stood in front of him and opened his eyes that spent far too much time closed. “Lets get back into my training; I have future matches to get ready for.”
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Posted: Mon May 02, 2011 2:51 pm
Broadsword? As his hands hefted the broadsword, the weapon shimmered and faded away, melting and covering his hands with... gloves? YES! The surge of excitement faded quickly upon realizing that they were not boxing gloves, but rather thick leather gloves. They were comfortable; they were made for him. But that wasn't all. He could feel something running up his arms and settling down on his head, around his eyes. Sunglasses? Glasses? Goggles? It was hard to tell -- it was too dark to see, and even if they were sunglasses it wasn't possible to get any darker. Something weighed heavily in his hands. It wasn't a broadsword. It was vibrating, moving and grumbling in irritation. But there was a saying involving life's lemons. Burning? Oh no, no. It was much better to take the lemons life gave you... ... and cut the damn tree down. ((Please head over to THE COVE thread HERE, READ THE PROMPT CLOSELY, and post a response to it thank you and congratulations!! ))
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