The Strongest Hit.

Chapter 1: Pretty Boy

The burn down my throat as I inhale the first hit.
Breathing the sweet poison in heavily.  Watching the smoke swirl as I breathe out. The repetitive addiction does it's job.
It eases the tension in my muscles.
Makes me forget what's to come.
It's just enough to take the edge off.
I take in the night sky and take one last hit.
It's time.
I throw my black hoodie over my head, shielding my dilated pupils from prying eyes.
I keep my head low as I make my way to the dressing room, if you could call it that.
It's really just a dingy shared locker room.
It smells like old blood mixed with dirty sweat.
To a fighter like me, it smells like home.
I head to the right corner of the room where Joey is laying out strips of white tape.
He's a jack of all trades.
My trainer.
My sparring partner.
My roommate.
My brother from another mother.
My pain in the fucking ass.
But he's always been in my corner.
I'm talking about since before I made this a profession.
When we fought for fun on the middle school playground.
I guess we just never grew up, still fighting any motherfucker that takes the bait.

I strip out of my heavy sweats.
Left standing in my grappling shorts, I adjust the band around my waist.
As I wait for Joey to get done preparing the tape, I crack my knuckles.
Clinching and unclinching my fists.
My last feel of freedom before the tape restricts my grip.
He gives me the side eye stare.
"You calm yet, JB?
Because once this tape goes on, it ain't coming off until you leave that ring."
I smirk and jab his shoulder.
"That blunt was enough to slow me down until it's time.
But I'm pretty sure your gonna need gloves to take the tape off, because it will be full of blood.
And not mine."
He takes a pair of disposable gloves out of his back pocket, dangling them in the air.
"Then sit the fuck down and let me do my job."
He's methodical in the way he tapes my wrists and knuckles to perfection.
He knows it's the difference between leaving with bruised vs broken bones.
He slips my fighting gloves on, tightening the laces just right.
Once he's done, I stand up and roll my shoulders.
The calm from before is slowly dissipating, being replaced with bloodlust.
Nothing compares to the high I get in the ring.
I take one look at my reflection in the mirror, knowing that this face will be the last thing my opponent sees before it's lights out.
They like to call me GQ...like it bothers me.
I use it as a weapon.
Nobody expects the pretty boy to put you to sleep.
To bad for them, because I don't lose.
And this face stays pretty.
Joey and I take a pre fight whiskey shot as they call me to the ring.
I put on my wireless headphones and hit play, handing my phone to Joey.
Walking through the darkened hall, I can see the lights from the warehouse arena.
The cage is calling my name.
I zone out the crowd as 50 Cent's "Many Men" blares through my eardrums.
As I step into the ring, I finally take a look around the arena.
I see who I'm looking for.
The UFC scouts are here.
Which means I can't just make this a quick paycheck.
Tonight I have to play with my prey.
Put on a show.
Because It's time to start collecting what I'm owed.
Beyond the blood and the sweat, the smell of money is what gets me hard.
I slowly turn my head and look my opponent in the eyes.
"His name is Tony Marks.
He's undefeated too", Joey says in my ear after removing my headphones.
"Not for long", I whisper back.
And here comes my favorite part.
The psychological warfare before contact is even made.
I keep my eyes locked my prey.
My smile widening like the Jokers.
He doesn't keep eye contact for long, I can tell he's uncomfortable.
He's probably thinking I'm some sort of psychopath.
And that's just what I want.
I put my right arm out towards him and flick my wrist back, motioning him to come closer with my fingers.
"Tony.Tony.Tony.
Tonight you get to be my bitch."
He doesn't like that.
I can see the veins in his neck popping.
He charges toward me, as I slowly walk towards him.
The referee unfortunately stops him before I can drop kick him myself.
Oh well...
It's for the best, afterall I have to put on a show.
Poor Tony is so worked up, he refuses to touch gloves.
I can't stop laughing at how easily he's fallen for the bait.
Joey slips my mouthpiece in as the bell rings.

ROUND 1
I stand unbothered on my side of the cage.
Tony rushes to the center where he waits, he seems unsure whether to rush me or wait for my advance.
I take him in.
He's about my height. 5'11
I'd describe his as stocky.
I think they would classify Tony as a meat head.
Where my frame is all lean muscle.
I'm pretty sure Tony here wouldn't survive 3 rounds....but I have to stretch it out.
For the money.
Getting bored, I make my way towards him.
He swings towards my right.
I easily lean left, as my overhand connects with the side of his jaw.
"Tony...you swing like a bitch."
This causes him to erratically lunge at me.
And as he does, I lean my body down and flip his frame on the the mat.
I could end him here.
But I don't.
I just circle him and taunt him to his feet.
"Tony tsk tsk tsk.
You really are as stupid as you look."
I take my time jabbing him with my left.
His face is starting to split under his right eye, causing blood to spray everytime I land a punch.
"My gloves are filthy.
Thanks a lot Tony."
He heaves in a breath before screaming
"Fuck you Bieber!"
Seriously is that all he's got.
Poor Tony.
I feel bad so I let him survive round 1.

Round 2
I pretend to be more cocky than I already am.
And I let poor Tony connect a weak jab to my left jaw.
What Tony doesn't know is that I enjoy getting hit.
It actually makes me feel more alive.
He attempts to low kick me, but fails.
So he goes for the middle kick, bringing his body in closer.
I'm able to wrap my hands around the crown of his head, bringing my forearms in to squeeze the sides of his jaw.
I have complete control.
Where the head goes, the body follows.
And unfortunately for Tony, his head connects with my right knee.
He's out before his body hits the mat.
I'm kinda pissed.
The last thing he saw was my knee and not my pretty face.
And I didn't make this fight go to 3 rounds.
Joey is gonna be pissed.

The crowd is chanting my name, as the judges declare me the obvious winner.
Poor Tony is still sleeping.

And for a brief moment my bloodlust is satiated.
It's an easy grand for Joey and I tonight.
Hopefully that keeps his mouth shut as he gets this bloody tape off of my hands.

In the dressing room, Joey throws an ice pack at my face.
"Your face looks pink...from that pussy ass jab he landed. Ice it."
All I can do is laugh.

And luckily the UFC scouts are still interested.
I guess they liked the show, because they offered me a fight.
2 months from now, I'd be making my official entrance into the UFC.
I'd have to devote my time and body to training.
But tonight...tonight I was going to enjoy.
Tonight I'd get the crew together.
Go to a club.
Drink relentlessly.
Coke for all.
Maybe even partake in some female conversation.
It was time to let Bizzle have some fun,
little did he know what lay ahead.

A/N:
What do you think?
Continue?
I'll just wait here for your response.

Song JB walked into the ring with
"Many Men" by 50 Cent.