Tough Bite

Bloodied, my tongue tasted the near defeat because of my vast deviation of skill between my opponent, he was angular, half of my size, crammed with me in a eight feet radius ring, barred with barbed fence, it was a death match, I did it for the money, I was desperate, and all these illegal matches were giving me a living by putting my life on the line.

My consciousness nearly slumped out of sight, I was almost knocked out by his speed. I was still astounded by his brutal speed, overtaking all of my moves, he was not exhausted at all, my vigor was ailing, he was getting stronger with time. Since this was an illegal match, anything was possible. One of his comrades handed him a serum, he injected it several times after nearly knocking me out, this was his fifth needle throughout the brawl with me.

Modern martial arts did not work with him, he read me like a book, predicting every single move that I was throwing at him.ย Maybe laying back to traditional…ย It did not make any sense, I picked one of the slowest form of archaic martial arts- silat, to combat this drug-boosted maniac.

Fifteen minutes passed, I was wearied, he was still pumped, he scrunched the needle on the stone cold ground, rushed into my direction, swifter than my eyes could catch. The languid style of silat let me dodged his first attack, my ankle lifted into the air, hitting his crouch with maximum velocity, he flew across the ring, smashing into the ground filled with needles.

He scrambled to his feet almost immediately, and pursued me once again, I did not see that coming, he pinned me to the ground ineptly with brute force and sheer speed. His punches were flying into my face as if a gatling gun was showering its bullets into me.

The searing pain was unbearable, knocking me almost unconscious, my eyes rolled back for a heartbeat, the silver cord attached to me pulled myself together, activating my desperation, kicking in the adrenaline into my bloodstream, the power from my system was doubled, effacing every ounce of my energy into this series of moves.

Another punch was in thin air, I caught it with all of my limbs before my eyes could do so, I stretched my body, some cracks were prominent to my hearing, he slammed the floor multiple time to surrender. I released him almost instantaneously after the judge rang the bell. He did not cocoon in pain, instead he threw himself into me, still boosted by the drugs, and sunk his teeth into my shoulders, I grunted in agony, stars were flying across my thoughts. A few guards pulled him away from me, and the scar was imprinted in me as a signature of the tough times of life.
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Craving for more? Down below:
Boiling Broth
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Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

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