Rages Raging Fight Story
Arch and Rusty
had made plans to cover their own fight if the third match between their gyms
went to a draw. They would trade punches in the pattern established by the
match. Since Arch's boys had taken the first two and Rusty's guys had taken the
last, the pattern was set at two shots per man, starting with Arch. They'd stand
center ring, toe-to-toe, repeating that pattern until one of them went down.
But the night had contained a few surprises. Rusty would have to check on Rick
Logan at the hospital tonight. The bantamweight was still just a kid at 15, but
he'd really pushed to be a part of the match. Arch and Rusty had kept the
weights heavier for the first two matches--most of the guys under featherweight
at Rusty's gym were high school kids, and most of their parents wouldn't have
agreed to let their son fight in this kind of competition. But Rick had trusted
Rusty, and so had Rick's father. Arch had even agreed to let the kid's father
watch the match, an event otherwise restricted to its participants. Logan hadn't
lost outright--but he'd passed out just before the second round. This weighs
heavy on Rusty's mind as he gloves up for his fight with Arch.
Arch has no such baggage, but there's still some surprise for him. TJ, Phil
Martin's gutpunching bag, is still unconscious in a heap next to the ropes on
one side of the ring...and he's still naked except for the thin gloves Phil had
provided as an illusion of a defense. Phil and Bumps Murphy are back in the
lockers, as a grunt or a smacking sound indicates from time to time. Arch and
Rusty have both gloved up now, but, since TJ isn't in the center of the ring, he
shouldn't be in the way. At worst, it's all just a little weird.
"You ready?" asks Rusty.
"Let's go."
Arch's first two shots are both straight lefts, and they land with enough force
to knock Rusty back a step or two. Rusty answers with a left cross and a
straight right, but his heart isn't in it--he's feeling too much guilt over
Rick. Arch throws a left cross and follows it with a right uppercut. Rusty
watches the punches coming and leans into them, trying to increase the impact of
the blow. He wants to be hurt, to be punished. Arch's punches do rock Rusty's
head, but the "disconnect" doesn't follow. Rusty targets Arch's jaw with two
right hooks, but he doesn't really follow through.
Arch steps back. "You swattin' flies or what? Stop pulling punches."
Rusty shrugs. "I'm ok. Let's go."
"The kid's gonna be all right. The Doc said so. Just dehydration."
"Just hit me, ok?"
Arch goes to the body, two uppercuts to Rusty's solar plexus. Rusty trained hard
for this one, melting the few extra pounds from his gut until it hardened into
rock. Arch's shots should cause more pain than they do, but Rusty barely feels
more than impact. On the other hand, Arch let himself go a little since last
time. A slight layer of fat blurs his formerly ripped abs. Rusty throws a couple
of shots just above the navel. Arch grunts both times. Arch repeats the double
uppercut to Rusty's gut, but the lack of effect is the same. Rusty digs a left
hook just beneath Arch's ribs, then evens the attack with a right hook to the
other side. Arch is into it now. He's already breathing hard, but Rusty's barely
broken a sweat. Arch throws another pair of punches into Rusty's gut, then
braces himself for the attack.
Somehow all of Rusty's guilt turns to anger. Arch has been slacking off. The
punches don't hurt, not the way they used to. Suddenly it's Arch's fault that
Rick passed out, Arch is the one delaying the hospital visit, Arch is the one
who needs this crap. If Arch went soft to lose faster, then Rusty's willing to
oblige. He rockets a pair of uppercuts into the softest looking part of Arch's
gut, that puffy layer just at the beltline. Arch crumples a little, smiling yet
wincing at the same time. Rusty waits for the moment when Arch lets his abs
loosen. When he does, Rusty goes on hard attack. Rusty starts with that softened
gut, whomping four, five, six solid shots just above the navel, visualizing his
gloves cutting through muscles and organs. Arch tries to cover up, so Rusty goes
upstairs. Three straight lefts and a right hook to the jaw, then two more hooks,
left and right. Arch's smile is gone now. Rusty backs him into a corner,
pounding the gym owner's face with power shots. Arch tries to raise his guard,
but Rusty fires right between the gloves. With a final barrage of five
alternating hooks, Rusty unleashes a warcry, a single note of fury that ends
with the final blow. Arch slumps to the canvas, his back to the corner, his head
dangling to the right, his legs splayed out. Rusty steps back, glowing with
sweat and breathing deeply. It isn't enough. Not yet. He wants Arch on his feet,
but Arch is clearly out.
"Is he gonna be all right?"
Rusty turns towards the voice in the opposite corner. TJ stands there now, still
gloved and nude. He feels Rusty's anger as soon as they lock eyes. TJ raises his
gloves into high guard. That's all the cue Rusty needs. They launch across the
ring towards each other, but TJ doesn't come gut first as he had with Phil
Martin. He's protecting himself this time...or trying to. Against other fighters
Rusty's weight, TJ might have a shot. At 180, TJ has about ten pounds on Rusty,
so a powershot showdown might favor the larger man. But TJ's already been
knocked out once tonight. As for Rusty, there's no longer any specific guilt or
anger fueling his attack, just white hot fury looking for a target--he's out of
control.
They meet in the center of the ring, but TJ lands the first blow--a solid right
hook. Rusty seems a bit dazed, so TJ fires up a right uppercut. Rusty slips the
punch and hammers a left hook into TJ's aching abs. This robs the larger man's
wind, but he's not finished yet. TJ throws a straight left that misses, then a
right cross that hits and forces Rusty back a step. There it is, the
"disconnect" that Rusty's addicted to, that moment of white light when the brain
can't register the pain. Before Rusty gets clear, TJ throws another right,
rocking the smaller man back against the ropes and farther into the
"disconnect." Then TJ makes his mistake--he attacks Rusty's gut, winging
uppercuts into the center ridge. Rusty's head clears, and his fury revives.
Before TJ knows what's coming, Rusty clips his foe's chin with a fierce left
hook. TJ actually spins about a quarter of a turn, away from facing the ropes
and Rusty. Rusty repeats the left hook again and again until TJ completes the
turn and has his back to the ropes. Rusty then fires three straight rights, each
of them pushing TJ back, each connecting as TJ bounces off the ropes. Rusty
finishes with six uppercuts to the jaw. On the fourth one, TJ starts to slump as
Arch had, so the final blows lift him up to prevent his fall. Just after the
sixth uppercut, Rusty feels a sharp blow to his lower back. He lets TJ fall and
starts to turn to face his new challenger, but a strong forearm pushes him into
a corner and holds him there.
From that corner, Rusty can see Arch just now coming back into consciousness.
Bumps is at ringside, talking to Arch and holding him in the corner with one arm
around the gym owner's waist. The guy behind Rusty has to be Phil Martin. Since
Rusty had watched both fights between the cornermen, he realizes the danger he's
in. Phil wouldn't mind fighting dirty--he'd aim for the groin or the back of the
head. If Rusty keeps fighting, the "disconnect" would probably come again,
possibly with some severe injury.
Bumps is trying to prevent that now. He calls out to Phil, "Just hold him there
until he calms down!"
Phil fires a couple more shots into Rusty's lower back. Rusty doesn't have to
see Phil's fists to know the cornerman has no gloves on. The knuckles dig deep,
the smack of flesh on flesh is clear and loud. This wasn't over. Not yet. But
the trick would be to act as if it were.
Phil pounds Rusty's back again, a little harder this time. Rusty goes limp,
allows his knees to buckle, and leans into the corner. He looks down to check
the position of Phil's feet. At first Phil doesn't buy it--his left forearm
stays rigid against Rusty's upper back. Rusty breathes heavy, but he doesn't
move. Phil decides it's for real and releaves the pressure, but he doesn't step
back.
Rusty throws his head back, thumping the back of his skull against Phil's nose.
He pushes himself out of the corner, knocking Phil off balance as they head
backwards together. They fall over TJ and tumble to the canvas. Rusty lands on
top of Phil, literally sitting as he lands on Phil's gut. Phil grunts deep when
they land. Neither man is much of a grappler, so they're both looking to be the
first up, at least not to lag behind and get hit from a superior position. Rusty
doesn't press his luck--he rolls to his left, away from TJ and towards the
center of the ring. He scrambles to his feet. When he turns to face Phil, he
sees the cornerman's bloody nose. He lets out another warcry and bolts across
the ring.
Phil meets him with equal force. Both men launch straight shots to the chin, but
Phil's arrives first. Rusty goes blank for a few seconds, but it's enough time
for Phil to wrap his left arm around Rusty's neck and pull him into a headlock.
Rusty's clear as Phil digs his fingernails into the flesh above Rusty's left
eye. Phil draws blood and then punches the wound to force it open. Going on
instinct now, Rusty hooks his right arm between Phil's legs and lifts him into
the air. Phil's panic forces him to release the headlock, and Rusty throws him
to the canvas. This knocks the wind out of Phil for a moment, so Rusty finally
has a few seconds to plan the rest of the fight. With blood getting into his
eye, Rusty knows he'll be vulnerable when Phil resumes his attack. Time to fight
Phil's fight fully. Time to end it quickly. Phil is almost on his feet now.
Rusty gets to him fast, digging an uppercut into Phil's crotch and causing him
to collapse again, his right hand still gripping the middle ring rope. When Phil
starts to pull himself up, Rusty hits him with a left uppercut to lift the jaw,
then a right hook--the same combination that had finished TJ earlier. Rusty hits
Phil with three more rights. Phil's grip on the rope breaks, and his eyes roll
back into his head. He's out cold.
Rusty hovers over Phil, his right fist poised for another blow. When it's clear
that Phil is out, Rusty stands up straight. He turns to his right, the blood
obscuring the vision in his left eye. TJ is still out, his cock erect from the
fresh beating. Arch is still groggy, still sitting in a far corner. Bumps still
holds him there.
"You done now? I ain't gonna come in the ring if you ain't done." Bumps meets
Rusty's glare with calm, steady eyes.
It's over. Finally over. Breath comes in deep gulps, some of the gasps catching
in the throat. Without a target for his fists, Rusty's anger fades, dissipates.
All that's left is the hangdog shame of a schoolboy. He feels tight in his
throat and warm around the eyes, but neither Rusty nor Bumps would call it
crying. Breaths become sobs, but not for long. Rusty lowers his gloves to his
sides. Calmer now, he lets his chin lower as well.
Bumps releases his hold on Arch. He pushes a couple of stools through the ropes.
Without speaking, Rusty goes to the nearest stool and sits there, hunched over.
Bumps slides his kit into the ring, then ducks through the ropes. He works on
Rusty's cut. It's deep enough for a stitch or two, but the coagulant should work
until Bumps can get the Doc's opinion. That's the worst of it. Arch will be
fine--he's already on his feet and tending to TJ. Bumps takes the other stool
and gets TJ into it. The guy's pretty tough to take two beatings in one night
and still get clear that easy, but that seems to be the case. By the time it's
Phil's turn, Rusty has already moved the stool next to the fallen cornerman.
Phil has yet to move. The nose has stopped bleeding, a few drops fresh on the
canvas, the rest drying on the face. He's breathing fine. Bumps checks Phil's
eyes, and Phil groans. Bumps tends to him gently, using a damp cloth to dab at
the drying blood. Slowly, Phil comes around. He'll be all right, too, as long as
he stays prone for a few minutes. The Doc has some work to do.
As Bumps heads back to the Doc's office, he realizes Rusty's following him.
Since Rusty's cut is the worst damage, the Doc should check him first anyway.
The coagulant is holding, but he shouldn't wait long for the stitches he really
needs. "Get him to Mercy General. I'll call ahead so they know what's coming.
Second call tonight."
Rusty asks, "How's Ricky?"
The Doc speaks as he starts to leave, not even making eye contact. "He's fine.
They'll keep him overnight on fluids, try to rehydrate the kid. Should've seen
that one coming. No kid at 15 should drop that much weight that fast." And the
Doc is out the door.
Bumps starts to leave, too. "And don't call him Ricky. He's Rick now, remember?
He'll kick your ass if you call him Ricky." Bumps laughs a little, recalling the
whole gym's response to Rick's threat. At the door, Bumps looks back over his
shoulder, but Rusty hasn't moved. Bumps waits.
Rusty doesn't even look up. "Maybe he should kick my ass."
"Nobody blames you but you...and maybe the Doc."
"I'm sorry."
"I know. So does Rick. C'mon."
Rusty nods. Maybe he'll end up in a room near Rick. Maybe he'll get a chance to
apologize tonight. Maybe he'll let Rick smack him around with a bedpan.
No. He owes the kid, sure. Should've watched him closer, maybe focused a little
less on Jakes and Jeffries. Gotta pay up on this one. Starting tonight.
But how?