3 - Like Father, Like Daughter

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Sweat trickled down my spine, pain burned in my arms, pumping my blood in my veins. It was a welcoming pain, one that was a pleasure to feel coursing through my muscles. I circled around in the boxing ring, my old battered pink boxing gloves positioned in front of my face. Across from me was my father, Eric Matthews with sweat lining his grey hairline. The infamous Eric Matthews, the man who never missed a hit. He was once very good at boxing. He was a legend back home, the man that had the whole betting and boxing world talking about him. He was the man to watch as he came home with big winnings and never one bruise.

Until one night he missed. Eric Matthews was getting old, his moves becoming a second slower. That one-second was a lifetime to some though. He was beaten by a new comer with a keen eye for the limelight and the taste of blood in his mouth. Eric Matthews didn't stand a chance. I watched from the sidelines that night as he went down. Punch after punch landing on his once unbeatable body and ego. Blood spilled the boxing ring flooring; loud cursing filled my ears as tears sprung to my eyes. I watched as his face hit the flooring, his eyes closing as he was knocked out cold. The rest that followed was a blur of blood, tears, screaming and mending his broken body. That was officially the end of Eric Matthews, the man that never missed a hit. He had given up his boxing gloves and opened up a gym, he then started teaching rather than fighting.

He had taught me everything I knew.

"You've gotten good, kiddo." Dad was saying, his voice was low and calm as he continued to circle around me, never taking his eyes off me.

I gave him a quick grin. "As good as you?"

His laughter filled the empty gym he now owned, just around the corner from his one bedroom house with a pathetic excuse for a garden. "Nice try, you'll never be that good."

I lugged forward, my glove hitting his own as he blocked the blow. "Are you sure about that, old man? I've gotten pretty good on my feet lately and with my powers, I think I'm better than the mighty Eric Matthews." Dad laughed again, this time throwing a punch at my side. I dodged it quickly, dropping down and swinging my leg out to clip him on the ankle. He didn't tumble down though, thankfully gaining his balance back and stepped backwards. He gave me a wicked glare.

"You always bring that up," He replied. "Your mother believed your powers were a gift. I believe they have always been a gift to cheat with. Your old man never had to cheat his way to win a fight."

I sighed, tearing off a glove and pushing back my hair. "And you always bring that up."

Dad hadn't been so supportive when I decided to become a vigilante that helped the city we now called home. He had never wanted a daughter that enjoyed his own hobby, a hobby that nearly got him killed. It took months for him to open up, giving me a chance to explain my reasons about being Bombshell. I had thrown back mum's words and belief about my powers in his face, which he hadn't liked but it worked. With him having my back, he taught me how to fight.

"You know I don't like you using your powers," He started. I rolled my eyes, heading towards the edge of the boxing ring and grabbing my water bottle. "Don't walk away from me, Violet."

I turned back to him, squaring my shoulders. "We're not having this conversation again, dad. I know you hate me being a metahuman, you always have...but seriously, it's been two years and you still bring this up."

Dad walked forward, yanking his own boxing gloves off and throwing them to the ground. "I don't hate you for being who you are, Violet. I just don't like when you put yourself in danger like the way you do."

I glared at him. "Reminds you of someone, does it?"

He sighed, running a ran down his face as he turned away from me. We had been dancing this dance for a long time. I knew he hated me fighting, using the very skills he had taught me to hurt others but to keep others safe in return. He hated it because I was too much like him, loving the rush and the power fighting gave me. I grabbed my towel, wrapping it around the back of my neck, trying to ignore him. I spotted the clock on the wall, seeing the time ticking on. I grabbed my bag, heading towards the doors. "I've got to leave, dad. There's this thing tonight and Ruby is demanding she--"

Fight For Me 。 Roy HarperWhere stories live. Discover now