The Street Fighter (#Wattys2014)

Chapter 3.

*8 years later*

1. Breath.

2. Mirror

3. One, two, duck. 

4. Jab and grab.

5. Knee to the gut.

6. Block, and punch solar plexus.

7. Finishing blow.

I inhaled and exhaled at a steady rhythm, making sure I never held my breath. I watched my opponent carefully as we stood across from each other, whenever his stance had moved, I copied it.

After a few more seconds I made the first move, swinging a double punch at him, then ducked out of the way as I knew he would react as soon as he gained his balance back.

In less than a second, his fist soared over my head then back out of the way. I sprung up as it passed, and jabbed him in his jugular. His hand flew to his throat but my hand beat his,  I squeezed a little tighter to get some grip, then used it against him as leverage.

I forced him toward me and brought my knee up with as much force as I could, letting it fly and ram into his stomach. 

I let him go, then I waited for him to make a move. He swung his fist at me and I blocked it, already having anticipated it, then I brought my arm up in an uppercut and jammed my fist into his solar plexus, causing the wind to be knocked out of him. Then without waiting for him to catch a breath, I bought my hand down, full force, and rammed it into the side of his head.

My opponent hit the ground and his head rebounded, making him fall unconscious. As soon as I raised my head up from my opponent, my hand is grabbed and thrown up into the air. The crowd around me all cheered my street name, which is then the only thing I was able to hear because of how deafening it was.

"Hooded Knight! Hooded Knight! Hooded Knight!"

I walked out of the circle and grabbed my water bottle, then pushed my way to the outer area of the ally, wanting to get away from everyone. I found a spot in the shadows and sat down, my back against the wall. As I sipped on my water bottle, I thought back to seven years ago when I first started my training, remembering how I used to fight, and how many different things have happened since then.

The kick boxing lessons, Jason and Nate, gave to me came in handy. But I kind of picked up my own style, along with a few techniques some other people taught me over the last seven years. Including weapons.

I laid my head back against the brick wall and closed my eyes, listening to the sounds around me. Music played back at the fights, signaling another fight about to start. I could still hear everyone and everything going on over there, so I tried tuning it out and listened out further to stop myself from thinking back. I stretched out my feet in front of me, and crossed my arms over my chest, relaxing a little more into the wall.

I heard a light pitter patter on the ground from a distance and focused on the sound to try and distinguish it. Then I heard it stop, making my curiosity spark. Though before I could open my eyes, the sound started again, so I decided that I would try to figure it out without looking. Soon, I realized that the noise started to come closer and closer, also becoming more clear and easier to make out. Footsteps. A girls footsteps to be exact. 

I opened my eyes and peaked up at the girl that was walking my way, she looked to be around my age, maybe younger. She was in tights with what looked like to be a ballet outfit on, paired with black ugh boots and a jacket. her arms were hugging her chest, showing that she was nervous, but the look on her face also showed curiosity. I watched as she walked passed me, not even noticing me, and just kept heading the other way, though slowing her already slow pace as she got closer the fights.