Lunarly: A Fire Sale Classic

Jimmy - Versus Hetal

Jimmy

"Versus Hetal"

       Blood trickled down his chin spotted with unshaved whiskers. The punch had been a good one, nearly ripped his jaw off. This was weakness. He could feel blood pooling where his head had hit the ground. From one punch. What would the others say? "Old Jimmy got knocked down with one punch. Maybe time for Jimmy to retire before his back done give out on him." That's what they would say.

       No, he thought. No. No. No! What if she saw him like this? He sat on one knee, then the other. He looked up at the man in front of him. Well, if you could call something half metal a man. His opponent had his exoskeleton replaced with that Franatic alloy all the thugs were into. Jimmy longed for the good old days, when all that a man had was his strength and his wit, and a good amount of Juice for those tougher bastards.

       He got to his feet. They were shaking like little chickens. Like scared little bitch legs. The metal thug in front of him just smiled and watched. How much longer will he be smiling? Jimmy wiped the blood from his chin and smiled.

       His hearing came wobbling back. All in-and-out, hearing the crowds shout and boo one moment, the next just a ringing that hurt his face all over again.

       One big metal fist came from the right. This time Jimmy was ready, falling to a knee and giving the man a quick shot to the stomach. The big metal man took two steps back, holding his gut. That felt right. Like the Bloody Jimmy that the crowd came to see.

       Jimmy Gordon had not been in the ring for two years, not since his injury. But the crowd knew him, everybody in the dome fight world knew his name. Now they cheered it. Everybody likes a good comeback. But could he do it? His fist ached from hitting that alloy shit, and judging by his blood already on the floor, if Jimmy got hit again he might have to use his only transfusion.

       His opponent was also well known. Hetal they called him. A young runt been working the dome a handful of years. He got big when he took down New Boston in the final round of last year's Fire Sale Classic. But while New Boston was strong, maybe even stronger then Jimmy, he wasn't too smart at strategy. And these metal bastards, gotta fight them with your head.

       Hetal came at Jimmy again. He was a foot taller, probably got them leg extensions that were popular. Tall, but wirey, thin little arms no larger then a tree trunk, and little legs to match. His clothes were silver and shiny, to match his metal skin. Hetal threw a right hook, Jimmy ducked under it, just like the last one. This time, Hetal was ready for the counter punch, and retreated before it landed on his gut.

       The calm. The moment before the battle truly begins. The fighters have each landed a blow and felt out their opponent. Then they stared at each other on opposing ends of the dome, looking for the weakness. Bloody Jimmy relished this moment, because more often then not, this was when the battle was decided.

       She would also be watching, little Irene, in some soft chair somewhere, watching big uncle Jimmy. He could see her, twirling a blonde lock with a pale finger, and clutching a fluffy teddy bear with all her strength. He had to win, not just for himself, not to rewin his name, but also for her. He had promised her he would win today. He had promised.

       Hetal attacked first. He threw a purple pill down his throat and charged. He threw a right punch that went high, followed by a left that caught Jimmy in the ribs.

       The blow left him breathless, but on his feet. He blocked the following jab, then another, as the punches rained down from the Juiced up man. If he could only withstand Hetal's assault until the Juice wore off then Jimmy could win this. If he could make it through.