THE ULTIMATE STANDER (COMPLETED)

Chapter One

Copyright © by Tova Philip.
All Rights Reserved.

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      The fluorescent light above my head flickered, as I continued to stand in a fighting stance with my fists clenched in front of me. I was gazing directly at my female opponent. She looked a little taller than my 5'10 height, seemingly in her mid-twenties, with dark brown hair and startling gray eyes.

      We are in a well-hidden bar in one of the several alleyways in the Manhattan Neighborhood. A group of boisterous people had crowded round the host betting, while loud cheers and whistles arose from a couple of people in the audience.

      My aunt Mae's sickness was the reason I was here tonight, presently standing in this ring and locking eyes on my opponent. Diagnosed with an illness called cardiovascular disease, an illness that was once discovered in her twin sister, my mother, we needed money to be able to begin an immediate operation. Unfortunately, we had nowhere near the needed amount of cash.

      With no other relatives to lend a helping hand, no father, who died in a plane crash, no mother, who died from the very same illness, the responsibilities of catering to the needs of the only family I had left fell onto my twenty-year-old self. That resorted me to street fighting and taking up a per-time job in a local restaurant downtown.

      I was no stranger to fighting. My father, Robert Knowles, was a MMA trainer. He had taught me basic defense and attack moves from an early age. I got better as I started to sign into organized fights on the streets, deserted parks, and bars right at the age of sixteen.

      After a year and half, having won and lost numerous times, I gradually began to win more fights than I would lose. And my quick speed, agility, and skill quickly became recognized by the viewers in the audience.

      My opponent finally made a move again. She threw her fist through the air. I dropped and leaned to the side. Her fist missed my head by a few inches. She swung her other hand. I dodged it but narrowly avoided my head. After dodging a few more unsuccessful punches, I decided it was time to test how she handled attacks. Switching from defense mode to charge, I approached her.

      I faked a gut punch on the left side of her body. As she moved to dodge it, I instantly threw a hard right hook. Not wanting to let her get any time to reassemble herself, I continued to throw her my hard gut punches. As she doubled over from the pain, and without willing to give her time to try and catch her breath, I threw her a quick uppercut.

      When her head and body jerked up, looking vulnerable and defenseless, I jumped with a fierce grin giving my opponent a roundhouse kick directly to the side of her head. It knocked her against the ring ropes, before bouncing off to the floor and rolling across it.

      Cheers from the audience rang out, almost shaking the foundation of the building as I glance at the lady lying on the platform. She seemed to be unconscious on the floor in front of me. Her attacks had been predictable and sluggish than every other opponents I had taken on, making the fight unimpressive. It was not the challenge I had hoped for, but rather like a warm-up.

      I gathered the winnings I made from the fight and immediately exited the rowdy bar. At the alley, I dragged down one of the fire escape ladders where I had hooked my bike onto. I grabbed it off the ladder before I positioned it in front of me and hopping onto the saddle.