Vixivo

Capital Punishment

"Ready for war, Joe, how you wanna blow they spot?" The speaker boomed throughout the gym, "I know these dirty cops that'll get us in if we murder some wop."

Manhattan, New York; known as one of the most iconic institutions in the world. Home to some of the most well known celebrities, greatest minds, New York Pizza; and any concept that is considered "amazing".

"Come on, keep your hands up," A voice called out to the ring.

'Salvador's Gimnasio'. A New York gym that specializes in boxing and physical fighting.

"Watch that right, Jim!" Another voice calls out.

Left jab, another jab. Testing the energy and their opponent's aura.

"Careful, Niño," The coach hollered.

Two young boxers. One looking for some cheap cash, the other; preparing for an up and coming match.

1-2-1. A devastating combination. The opponent tried to land a right hook in retaliation, but one small step back took him out of the range. With an opening, he slammed a right hook onto the face, knocking his opponent out.

"Atta boy!" The coach congratulated as he applauded.

"It's still one-eight-seven on an undercover cop," The speaker continued.

The winner threw his headgear to the ground.

"I think the music gave me a power boost," He said.

The challenger laid on the ground, defeated as he groaned. He could see the stars swarm around his head.

"I'll be sure to tell them to play more of that," The coach slid into the ring and picked up the headgear.

Ring. Ring.

A phone rang from the inside of the gym's office, catching the attention of everyone in the building.

"Be back," The coach rushed inside the office.

The winner of the fight realized the man was still lying on the ground. Absolutely devastated by the combo.

"Here," He lifted the other from the ground, "Are you okay?"

The challenger had a flow of blood running down his nose. He tried to wipe it away with his hand but only smeared it.

"I got you," The winner pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to him to use.

"Jim! Phone call for you!" The coach said from the office.

After moving out of his mother house, Jimera decided to make his way to New York City. Now living with Ximena in a penthouse on the south side of the city.

"Yeah?" Jimera answered the phone.

Now a well-known boxer, Jimera has made an image for himself and has solidified a placement in the celebrity world.

"Ma, I told you I'll be there before his birthday!" He said.

Constantly training, Jimera quickly became the number three pound-for-pound boxer in the U.S. Making him a deadly fighter in the eyes of the other boxers.

"I know, but I'm been so busy lately."

It's currently October 9th, about 3 weeks before Ciro's birthday. As for Jimera, he promised that he would fly back to Texas to visit his brother. Stupidly, he still hasn't told anybody in New York.

"I'll be there in a couple days, I just need to pack my stuff," He assured his mother, "Give me three days and I'll be right at your doorstep."

Sal, Jimera's boxing coach, stared at Jimera with a disappointed face. Sal was always somebody who chose work over family, believing that the money doesn't roll in if Jimera doesn't give it his all.