The video playing had a grainy quality.
Very old... very compressed, passed around too many times.
But in the midst of all that? It didn't really matter, because everyone in the room was silent.
All you could hear was a muffled roar of a crowd from years ago... distorted through cheap speakers, echoing like a memory that refused to fade.
A ring sat in the center of the screen.
Lights too bright.
Canvas stained with sweat and blood.
And there he was...
Apollo De Luna.
Three years younger. Twenty Years old. Untouchable in the world of boxing.
"Is that really him?" someone muttered as they watch closely at the screen.
No one answered as they didn't need to.
But the moment the bell rang, the atmosphere changed.
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His opponent rushed, weaving left and right. Attempting an old outdated move called the "Dempsey Roll."
He moves forward towards Apollo, rushing in with his titanium calves. Confident that he can win.
But Apollo? His demeanor was calm... almost as if he had grasped the situation immediately.
He lured him in as usual, letting the confident opponent weave in a figure 8 as he began to throw hook after hook.
The weight and strength of the punches battering Apollo, but something was wrong. He was tanking all of them.
And finally the exhaustion hit, like a blade had finally dulled.
Apollo stepped back, finally seeing everything and throwing a nasty left hook with a straight to follow.
The opponent's head flies back as his body hits the canvas.
The room watching the footage flinched as they had felt it themselves.
"Oh God...."
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The video had crackled.
The crowd in the footage erupting in cheers.
But Apollo? He stayed quiet.
No wasted movement, no expression, just precision. It wasn't just any fight to those watching. Those with enough knowledge knew simply...
That he had controlled everything from the start.
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"Pause it." one of the people watching the grainy screen says.
The video froze mid-frame, showing Apollo.
Apollo stood there, with a stance known to popular boxers in America. The Philly Shell. While the other man stood shaking off his head knowing he was going to lose.
One of them leaned closer to the screen.
"...That stance," he said quietly... "I've seen that before."
No one spoke as they all knew what he meant.
The video resumed once again, displaying the second round.
The opponent came in, pleading and risking everything with his fists. Reckless behavior.
Almost desperate... but desperation and recklessness isn't a good combo in the world of boxing.
Apollo stepped in, not back anymore.
The opponent throws a overhand right as Apollo slips under and throws a left hook to his liver.
There was a saying in times of boxing...
" He who rules with his left, rules the world. "
A left hook makes contact with his liver as the opponent's mouthguard slips out of his mouth in pain.
He drops to the floor grunting in pain holding his side like his life depended on it.
The referee rushes in between them as the crowd erupts.
But Apollo? He didn't celebrate, he just stood there...
He didn't even look at the man he just put down.
He just simply... Looked up... quiet... like it meant nothing.
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The video ended as the static filled the screen for a second before it went black.
The people watching didn't move. One person finally spoke up.
"...He retired after this right?" he spoke quietly.
"Yeah..." another replied. "Just disappeared out of the bloom."
A pause was in the air as one of them spoke again curiously.
"...Why?"
No answer...
Across the room, someone leaned back sighing. Eyes still locked on the now-black screen.
"Because guys like that don't just quit..." he said quietly
"They stop for a reason."
and somewhere far from that room, Apollo De Luna lived like none of it ever happened.
YOU ARE READING
FREE FALL -
FanfictionHe didn't lose. He walked away. At twenty, Apollo De Luna was untouchable - a rising force from the Philippines who carved his name into every ring he stepped into, even across Japan. Then he disappeared. Now he keeps his head down, working a normal...
