WORLD WIDE CHAM9IONS

1

"I gave up my career, now stop asking."
The lights would flicker, once or twice. But nobody actually cared, to be honest. There was a dirty wine scent to the bar, a signature to this landmark. It would hang, and get nauseous after a while. But nobody cared, to be honest. The tables were somewhat sticky, with a ugly shine to it. And cigarettes dressed it up, like sprinkles on a cupcake. The cigarettes were used, but nobody cared, to be honest. The seats were tall, and beaten down, the leather ripped. And the dusty juke box in the corner always had these old, sad 90s Chinese jazz playing, the same ones every time. I would tap my fingers across the table, to the beat. I would say, there was only me, the bartender, and that one man who sat beside me.

"Look at you, Cheng." He would start, slowly. The words rolling out his tongue in a pitiful manner. It pissed me off, frankly. I turned to gaze at the man. He was a guy of probably 5'9, with broad shoulders, and just a muscular tone overall. He looked 32 - ish. His hair was jelled back, revealing his kind-off big ears, and square-shaped face. He had thick, dark brows, and thin lips. And for some reason, he wore a black turtle neck, like he was some, big hot-shot. "You used to be..." His words would end in a expired sigh, and then a groan. "The number one fighter at your age. A role model. You used to be so popular." I would roll my eyes, and massage my head. "You could have been a MMA global champion by now--"

"Well I'm not. And for fucks sake, I quit MMA two years ago Kang." I would shift a little, taking a small sip from the untouched glass of wine of mine.
"Your only twenty--"
"Nineteen." I corrected. "I was seventeen when I quit."
"Cheng--" His words would halt, abruptly, and then he would shake his head. "Look at you. You've changed so much. Lost, like, half that weight. Lost your muscles, and your manly tone, y'know?" Again, I groaned. "And look at your hair, it's so long! When was the last time you had a haircut? You used to get one every week back then."
"And?"
"And what I'm saying, is, that your--"
"Not the Cheng I used to know." I mimicked him. He would say this, he said this every time.
"I was going to say that." Kang would mumble. There was a silence, between us, for a minute, or two. The music would continue to play, and the bartender in the corner would carry on cleaning his glassware. Our eyes locked, for a quiet moment. "What I'm saying Cheng." He would start again, breaking the silence. "Is that you should really do something with your life, other than drinking, and sleeping twenty-four-seven."
I rolled my eyes, ignoring the essence of his words.

"You know where your opponent is right now? The one who knocked you out? Where Kenji Teshima is right now?" He was at it, again...God, I didn't want to hear it. "He's now a global champ -- an MMA player. An official, MMA player. And do you know how popular he is? The Japanese love him! People across the world love him -- especially the Americans."
"I don't wanna get recognised by Americans." I grumbled. "And I don't like the Japanese."
"Oh shut up Cheng. Your fluent in both English and Japanese. Don't talk." He would snort, before carrying on. "Kenji Teshima is a gold medalist, right now. And with that one champ competition coming up in a years time, I was thinking--"
"Shut up. We are not--" I knew, exactly what he was suggesting.
"We can get you back started! Muscle memory exists, y'know!" He would grab at my wrist, staring at me, straight in the eye. "Come on. Cheng you have a chance. Don't go wasting your life like this! You have a record. It's only been two years."
"I'm not doing it again!" I would yell, slamming my hands on the table and jumping upwards. The bartender shot a glare, and I quickly sat back down. "You only want to--"
"I want to be at it, coaching you again. Those were the good days." He would say. "And plus, I have everything prepared. We have a year to change your life around. This is a one in a lifetime chance Cheng! And after you win this global championships, then you can become a--"
"Stop dreaming." I would chuckle, shaking at my head.
"Come on, look at yourself right now Cheng!"
I would stare at the reflection of myself in the wine glass. He was -- partially true. I did have, overgrown, scruffy hair that reached my shoulders, and a slim disposition. My cheekbones eerily prominent under my flesh. Sometimes, it was weird,  because I had changed so much. It was terrifying in a way. But a good cost to pay if it meant I didn't need to return back to MMA, fighting, or any of that weird shit. I took a sip from my wine.
"I'll think about it." I mumbled, getting off my chair, as I put my leather jacket on. I didn't want to stay here any longer and discuss this with Kang. He was a pain at times.
"Come on Cheng, think about it! Think about it once? Please?" He would beg.
"Fine." With a shake of my head, I would pull the dirty notes out my wallet, and gingerly pass it to the bartender. Kang wouldn't say another word, rather, he chuckled, and carried on having his drink. With a wave of my hand, I left the bar.

The rays of the moon glazed the lonely side pavements of the road. The stalls snd shops empty, almost appearing abandoned in these sides of Beijing. No noise could be heard, other then the quiet hiss of the wind. And up above, rested solemnly the moon, humble in his honour. It was nearly midnight, and the night sky was picturesque. A black to navy gradient was the backdrop for a full moon; the night sky so clear you could almost see every crater. The moon, a glowing yellowy white, loomed large, surrounded by an ethereal glow. Freckles of stars were sprinkled behind it, a few large ones but mostly a multitude of little white pin pricks. Every now and then, a twinkle caught my eye. This was an occasional sight. In fact, best to be put, a rare sight. Usually, because of the foggy pollution of Beijing, the night would often just be a plain black sight. But today...
I don't know, it seemed strange.

Fumbling in my pockets, I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and a simple red lighter. As I lit it up, the single cigarette with that small flame, I smoked it, pondering to myself about Kang's words. Did I really have a chance? To become the champ? It seemed like a distant, far away goal. It seemed so high up, considering my state, now. It used to be a possibility. But now, it remained a little dream of mine. To grapple my hands around the rewards. The have the crowd cheering my name. A old memory of 17.
Did I really have a chance, at winning those championships? Look at me?
And so, I would probably need to go against that monster in order to achieve it. The difference between us...Is too large. I don't have a chance, do I? A years time.
'Look at you, Cheng.' The words would be repeated, over and over in my head. It would leave a tattoo, a permanent mark on my brain.
"Who am I?" I would mumble, unconsciously. Was I really Cheng? Because right now, I barely knew myself. "Who am--"

"Help!"