Jhun Thai O: The Fall Of Thomas Brady

Jhun Thai 0 Chapter 10

The Theatre was alive with the energy of over a hundred people. It was nowhere near enough that Thomas expected, but he knew it was the fight he had come for, not to impress the crowds as his trainer kept telling him. His opponent, Jon Portland, was already at the ring showing off his muscles to the crowd, the majority of them cheering him. With a pang of dismay, Thomas realised, that most of the fans here had come from London, and most of them were either Portlands fans or Tudors.
He was not expecting a chorus of boo's as he stepped out onto the arena walkway to his signature theme tune, Eye Of The Tiger from Survivor. He realised hardly anyone from Stoke, even some of his most devoted fans were not present. He tried to remain focused on the ring as made his way up to it, his brother by his side, his trainer, Douglas, behind him. Portland was already taunting him as he approached the ring and Thomas could see the British kickboxing champion, Mark Tudor, sneering at him from his own ringside seat.
"Hope you been polishing that title!" he shouted across to Thomas. "Because ole Portland here's gonna be adding it to his collection".
"Dream on Tudor!" Thomas shouted back under the hood of his fighting jacket. "When I'm done here, you'll be next!"
He heard Tudor laugh at this. "You're a joke Thomas!" he said to him, getting up off his chair. "If I thought you were a worthy opponent, it would be me fighting you in that ring, but you're a joke Thomas. You can't fight and you wouldn't last three minutes with me in that ring! So I'm just gonna sit back and watch Portland take you apart!"
Thomas felt a surge of anger swell up inside him. He turned to Tudor as if to make a swing at him, but his brother stepped out in front of him. "It's not worth it Thomas," he said to him, pushing him back. "Just ignore him, focus and get your ass in that ring".
"Exactly what I would have said," Douglas told Travis. He held the first two ropes open for Thomas to climb in and when Thomas entered the ring, he raised his hands at the crowd, only to be met again with a chorus of boo's.
"There for me shithead!" Portland shouted, walking up to face Thomas.
Thomas turned and stared Portland into the eye's, seeing for the first time, the darkness in the mans soul and realising the extent of the task he had before him. Portland was a hulk of a man, thickly muscled with tattoo's plastered across his chest and arms. His face was hard and lined with scars, a reminder of previous battles in and out of the ring. His hair was shaven and his eye's were cold and feral. He stared hard at Thomas, his eye's almost cutting right through him. What worried Thomas was that he could only stare no more than a minute before looking away, as if hesitant. When he looked back at Portland, he could see the man walking back to his corner where his trainers were, boasting arrogantly to them about his opponent.
"He's scared," he laughed. "I've seen his fear. He is no warrior".
Thomas felt a hand push him back. It was Travis. He had Thomas's gumshield and held it out for him. Thomas put the gumshield in his mouth and held his hands out as Douglas checked his gloves.
"You okay?" Travis asked Thomas. He looked back at Portland who was flexing his muscles, and beating his head against the turnbuckle as if to psyche himself up. "He's no big deal," he told his brother. "Just don't get carried away".
"Just stick and move," advised Douglas. "He's a bruiser, this one. Wear him out with jabs. He should tire in the later rounds".
"I can take him in the first round," Thomas said through his gumshield. "I'll finish this early".
"Yeah, and you'll be carried out on a stretcher," Douglas said to him. "Remember what we worked on. Don't stand toe to toe with this guy. Not unless you wanna lose your head. Use your speed. You're faster. Stick and move remember. You got some of your Stoke fans here and they see Portland as the underdog. Prove them right!"
Thomas nodded slowly as if to indicate to his trainer that he understood. But deep down his emotions were like a tangled mish mash of wires. He could feel his stomach tightening up in knots and his heart beating fast. He was frightened but could not understand why, yet this fear also made him angry and eager to destroy the man he saw standing a few metres away from him. He wanted to finish this fight quick and prove to everyone that he was a great and powerful fighter.
As the ring announcer introduced the fighters, the referee, a tall man in his mid thirties with dark, receding hair, motioned for the fighters to approach. The taller brute, Portland, sneered as he looked down at Thomas who was only a few inches shorter. The ref gave both fighters the usual rules of ring fighting and all this time, Thomas could not bring himself to stare into the eye's of his opponent. He had a bad feeling that he could not shake off, and his focus was fragmented, on the ref, the crowd and his corner. He felt a shove from Portland. "You aint got it shithead," he told Thomas. "You're going down and ain't nothing you can do for it".
"Go for it," was Thomas's reply before turning back to his corner.
"You ready?" asked Travis as everyone exited the ring, leaving only Thomas, Portland and the referee.
Thomas nodded and before he knew it, the bell sounded to signal the start of the first round. Almost immediately, in an explosion of anger, Thomas erupted from his corner and launched himself at the bigger man, attacking him with a combination of kicks and punches. To Thomas's surprise, the big man made no effort to defend himself against Thomas's incoming blows, and hitting Portland was easy. He struck the big tattooed man with crosses and uppercuts, determined to take his head right off and then proceeded to kick him in his side with powerful round kicks. He hit Portland with all the power and fury that was inside him, and though Portland was rocked back by the power of his attack he did not go down.
"Is that all you got!" screamed Portland through his gumshield. He raised his hands and offered a shot at his midriff.
Thomas immediately got to work, hitting the big man in the stomach, before rocking him back with a powerful uppercut that sent Portland staggering back against the ropes. He proceeded to attack the big man with all he got, unaware of how tired he was getting.
"Slow down Thomas!" his brother screamed at his corner. "You're burning yourself out!"
But Thomas did not hear them. He just carried on, attacking the bigger man without any regard for his own safety, until he ran into a powerful right cross from Portland which staggered Thomas, almost turning his legs to jelly. Almost instantly, Thomas found himself on the receiving end of a volley of punches and kicks which rocked him back and sent him staggering towards his own turnbuckle where the big man proceeded to pound him in the stomach and side with powerful body punches, clearly knocking the wind right out of Thomas.
"Don't stand toe to toe with him!" screamed Douglas. "Get out of there! Stick and move! Stick and move!"
Thomas tried to move away from the turnbuckle, but Portland grabbed him and hurled him right back against the ring post with a sickening thud. He continued his punishment against Thomas, until the bell sounded and bloodied and bruised slightly, Portland raised his hands to the crowd, amidst their cheers and roars. Thomas just slumped back onto a stool that Douglas put under him and both his trainer and Travis climbed back onto the ring. Travis took Thomas's gumshield out and gave him some water, while Douglas tended to a horrible cut that had formed near Thomas's left eye.
"I got him, I think I got him," said Thomas, barely able to get his breath. His world was spinning all around him, and he could barely focus properly.
"Bullshit!" shouted Douglas, splashing water over Thomas's face. "You are completely off your game Thomas. What did I tell you about stick and move? You're gonna get slaughtered if you stand toe to toe with him".
"He's right," agreed Travis. "You need to change your game plan here".
"He's bleeding!" protested Thomas. "I got him".
"That's how he fights," told Travis. "He's just testing you, toying with you. Pain's nothing to this guy. You gotta be smart. It's not the time to play the hero". He put Thomas's gumshield back in as the bell sounded for the second round.
Portland was already on his feet, looking fired up and ready. He came at Thomas just as Thomas was getting up from his stool. It appeared evident to him that Portland wanted to corner Thomas again. Thomas immediately moved out of the way as Portland swung a wild right that missed him by inches. Summoning up every last reserve of strength, Thomas, came at Portland, attacking his body with a series of punches and then swinging at his head. Portland fought back, and the two traded blows, each one on the receiving end of a painful punch. This exchange continued for a while until the ref intervened and pulled them apart when they started grappling. The moment Thomas let go, he was caught in the midriff by a painful front kick from Portland which sent him staggering back against the ropes.
He bounced off them and went straight at Portland again, determined to knock the bigger man out, even though his heart and mind were screaming at him not too. He hit Portland with a few well timed crosses and a crunching back kick to his midriff. But Portland laughed, taunting Thomas onwards even though his face was cut and blood was beginning to seep. Thomas himself, was unaware of the gash that was forming on his forehead and across his eye. He was unaware of the fact that a few of his ribs were bruised and aching like crazy, but he was a man running purely on adrenline alone.
"Move around!" shouted his trainer. "Move around. Don't stand toe to toe with him!"
But despite the cries from his camp, Thomas charged forwards to meet Portlands challenge, hitting him as hard as he could. He was no longer fighting as a controlled fighter, and all strategy had long gone out of the window. This was going to be a street fight and he was going to take Portland apart. He came in with an elbow to Portlands face and then a head butt. This provoked a chorus of boos from the audience and the ref had to pull Thomas apart.
"You are deducted 1 point," he warned Thomas. "I see that kind of fighting again, you are disqualified. You understand?"
Thomas nodded his head and then went charging in again at Portland who now had a wicked grin spread across his features. He taunted Thomas to come forwards and Thomas swung at him with a volley of punches and kicks, missing wildly and almost slipping in the process. His head was spinning, and the shouts of the crowd were beginning to feel like they were far away. He felt like he had goldfish bowel on his head and he knew he was slipping slowly out of reality.
"Thomas," a voice called him.
He stopped and looked around him, at the audience. The voice was female and it was the only clear voice he could hear from the muffled sounds of everyone around him.
"Thomas," it said again.
He looked at the first set of front row seats and saw her sitting there in the crowd, a still and solitary figure amidst hordes of screaming fight fans. She wore the same bright red dress and her hair was long and flowing. She was looking straight at Thomas and Thomas just froze up, his entire being captivated by her presence. He could not believe that he was actually hearing her inside his mind.
Then it came, a punch from out of nowhere that caught Thomas completely unawares and sent him staggering backwards, his entire world spinning out of control. He felt another punch strike him, this time on his chin. One after the other they rained in on him, and slowly his world became darker as his eye's closed. He did not even hear himself topple to the floor or the ref counting to him. He just closed his eye's and drifted into a deep darkness, unaware as the ref reached ten in his count, that he had just lost the fight...

Thomas woke up to find himself back in his dressing room, lying on a table. He was still dressed in his blue kickboxing pants and his hands were now free, his boxing gloves by his side. The cry of the audience in the Queens Theatre had died down to silence and Thomas knew the arena was empty. He also knew that he had lost his title defence against Jon Portland. He tried to sit upright, but found a wave a dizzyness and nausea overcome him. He noticed his brother was sitting next to him.
"Easy, easy," he said steadying Thomas back down on the table. "Good to see you are awake. For a moment I thought I lost you there".
"How long was I out?" he asked his brother.
"About half an hour at most," his brother told him. "He caught you with a devastating right cross that nearly took your head off. You could have avoided it, but you kinda froze and walked straight into it".
"I walked into his knockout punch?" said Thomas, not believing what he was hearing.
"Well, you were looking at something and you seemed quite...spaced out," said Travis. "I don't know what was going through your mind bro, but that fight was not your best. You could have beaten him if you played it smart, but you went in like a madman wanting to end the fight quickly and then in the second round you went all spaced out".
Thomas sat upright again. His head was still spinning but he was not letting it bother him. He was too angry to let his injuries get him down. "So I was off my game," he admitted to his brother. "But I don't need you lecturing me on that. I've had enough crap lately and I don't need any more from you!"
Travis was at a loss for words, especially when Thomas got up from the table. He stood up to prevent Thomas from falling when he stumbled slightly when he tried to walk. Thomas warned him off.
"What are you doing?" his brother demanded to know.
Thomas cast him a wicked glare. "Where is Portland? Where's Tudor?"
"They are probably at that new nightclub, Stomp, in Hanley. But what are you going to do?"
"Get my title back..." Thomas said, making his way to the door. He shook his head a few times as if to clear the cobwebs out of it and then carried on.
"Woah!" said his brother, rushing to block Thomas's exit. "You ain't going nowhere. Not like this".
Thomas looked at his smaller brother, his anger welling up inside him. He could almost see in his minds eye, both Portland and Tudor laughing as they celebrated his loss, his belt now in the possession of these two scumbags that he hated with fury.
"Get out of my way Travis," Thomas warned his younger brother.
Travis folded his arms, defiant not to allow Thomas to frighten him. He had already had enough of the crap, the arrogance and temper of his older sibling, and right he knew Thomas was not thinking straight. "Let it go Thomas!" he said to him. "It aint worth it! Lets just go home and blow some steam off with a few drinks".
"And then what?" Thomas said, almost ready to tear his younger brother in half. "You want me to just accept that I lost to this idiot, this thug".
"He won because you were off your game, end of story!" Travis shouted. "The only way you are going to get even with Portland and Tudor is in the ring! You go after them now, you can pretty much kiss your fighting career goodbye".
"What is this?" said Thomas, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You think you are better than me huh? You are jealous because your older brother had the gold and you didn't? That's pathetic!"
"No, what you are doing now is pathetic!" came back Travis. "I supported you throughout your fighting career, through all those fights! I put up with your arrogant attitude! The partying! The girls! And I knew that eventually there would come a time when you would burn out!" He watched Thomas pacing up and down the dressing room, his anger clearly boiling up. This was something he did not want to hear and Travis knew, but he also knew that it had to be said. "That's what was happening to you! You were burning out from that work hard, play hard lifestyle you had! I mean, who was the one that had to drag you out of the pubs at 3am in the morning when you were too drunk to make your way home? Me Thomas! Did you honestly think it was going to last? Did you?"
"Fuck you!" shouted Thomas. "I don't need your shit little bro, now back off and let me get my gold back!"
Again, Travis shook his head. "I aint gonna sit back and let my brother make the biggest mistake of his life. For Chrissakes Thomas, lets just go home, have a few drinks with friends and then when your head is cleared, we can rethink our strategy for getting your cold back and getting even with Portland. You go after them now, it's over".
Thomas looked at Travis, whose chest was heaving with emotion. He could see his younger brother was afraid and that he clearly did not want to have to resort to violence to stop him from going after Portland and Tudor. But right now, the only thing that Thomas wanted was to get his own back on those two and at try to restore his reputation as a tough guy.
He nodded his head as if agreeing with Travis and offered his hand out as if to shake it. Travis blew out a sigh of relief and reached out to shake his older brothers hand, unaware of a powerful right cross that knocked him sideways against some lockers. The blow did not knock him entirely out, but it clearly dazed him.
"Sorry, but I gotta get my own back on them too," he said, before leaving the locker room.