tomato can

chapter one

The crimson drops of blood on the floor did not belong to me, but the sweat that made my shoes slip most definitely did. It dripped from me like pouring rain from the sky, unrelenting and unceasing.

The movements of my feet did not stop, as it helped to be in constant motion. One foot ahead, a quick step that not even one well trained in the sport would be able to see coming. Then a raised hand, a slight movement, so it would sit in front of my left pectoral.

Next, my shoulders tensed, preparing for the movements ahead. They strained and the muscles coiled, and then my gloved fist flew, viciously, to meet the nose of the man in front of me. As his face flew back, my other fist found the side of his stomach, hitting even harder with the intent to finish him off. But the bastard wouldn't fall. He staggered, then his eyes met mine, and I could see the pain in them, but also the intent to knock me on my ass and claim the round.

But this would not happen. I showed him my teeth, not in a malicious sneer, but in a grin that I knew would piss him off. In return, he barred his own teeth, but his were meant to appear lethal. I then went flying, my fist knocking his jaw back once again.

A good fighter learns to see the world in slow motion. It helped to think slowly, deliberately. When your actions become so rapid that they are no longer your own, but a form of yourself that you are a stranger to, you lose the bout. You have to fight singularly and independently, away from all other thoughts and previous feelings. These inclinations have a tendency to cloud the brain, and once again, you are not yourself.

This is not to say that your fight is not your opponent's fight, as well. You share it with the other man in the ring; it is a mutual endeavor of victory, as you cannot win without the other falling prey to not just your fists, but also your mind. In this way, your opponent must be taken into consideration in your newly found, slowed reality. When his fists fly, your lagging mind must recognize all necessary precautions that are paramount in your efforts to react to his movements, and importantly, to then play off of them.

I took all of this into consideration as the stout man facing me recovered quickly and ran towards me, his left foot before his right, solidifying my assumption that his dominant hand was his left. I used this information as I punched the left side of his ribcage without relent, forcing him to bring both his gloved fists down to protect his new injury. I took this opening to knock his face, and the only movement I got back from his was a weak swing from his right hand to my shoulder. This made it easy to deliver what I was sure would be my final punch. The black glove on my right hand met solidly with his jaw, forcing him to the floor, face-down and unconscious.

I kneeled down and quickly found his mouth-piece, taking it out and throwing it to his side of the ring. I flipped the man over, lightly slapped his face a few times, and then dragged him over and into a sitting position in the corner of the ring, leaving him to the care of his men.

I looked over to find Hollis standing just outside of the roped-in ring, wearing a small smile on his lips.

"You did very well, considering your ass was out of the ring for months," he said to me with something like a laugh.

An identical small smile covered my lips as well. It felt good to fight again, to feel the warm sensation of sweat on my back and the ache from head to toe.

Hollis threw me a white towel which I used to wipe my face clean of the sweat that poured from it. I walked over to him and pulled him into a hug, knowing by now that the grime of the gym did not discourage him.

"I'm glad you're back. Go take a shower, then come by my office. We need to talk, Rhys."

I shot him a curious glance, but headed towards the locker rooms in the back. There were only a few men in there, most packing their things and leaving for the night. All that noticed my presence looked weary, and started moving quicker in their efforts to leave. I almost wanted to laugh and sneer at their alarmed faces, but I could only sigh.