Warning Signs by Warning Signs (epub)

Author:Warning Signs (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

THE LAST ROUND

H is eyes rested on The Champ’s face, on the black-rimmed opals in their swollen sockets. Glassy brown marbles that were glazed with pain and weary, shifting restlessly, refusing to meet his own. The old man had never seen his fighter take such a beating. There was a look of absolute defeat, almost death, on his crushed and distant face. But not fear. No. Never fear. Not his fighter. Not The Champ.

Jesus, the old man thought, fighting back the lump in his throat with twice the conviction he now saw on the beleaguered face of his fallen hero, his friend. I’m gonna have to call it. He’ll hate me for it but I’ve gotta stop this.

The Champ drew a short, shallow breath from the sticky air and shifted his dark eyes, briefly crossing paths with the old man’s pale blue ones. The Champ heaved a sigh, shook his head. It was almost as if he knew what the old man was thinking; what he was fighting inside his heart. You ain’t stopping nothing old man, those wise and dogged eyes said. The old man nodded. He understood.

In the ticking silence, the old man surveyed the damage to The Champ’s face as cold water rained from the bloated sponge above his wiry head of black hair in icy tendrils that were brown with blood. Everything had slipped into a surreal drawl as if filtered through a nightmare; all sounds were far-off and distorted, all shapes were blurred. All except the lines and contours of The Champ’s once beautiful face as it slowly came into focus. The old man examined the high, discoloured cheekbones that were bruised, shiny and fat with pockets of blood. He gazed grimly at the puffy jaw, the split lip, the partially broken nose with dried blood crusting around the rims of his beating nostrils. It was typical- the old trainer had spent the better part of two decades screaming at the kid to keep his goddamn hands up and the one night he actually did it, he took the worst beating of his career. He was too old. Too slow. He had taken far too many shots over the years and Father Time had finally caught up with him. What took you so long? The old man cursed internally, a flurry of flashbacks from some sixty-two fights, three world titles and God knows how many obstacles and memories beating through his mind. Ghostly remnants from days gone by. Echoes of the past. You should’ve come for my boy years ago, he thought. But Father Time had tried, and the old man had to remind himself that they had been here before -three times before in fact. The first was six years ago: The Champ had emerged victorious over a hulking giant nobody thought he could beat. The man was an awesome, indestructible monster with dynamite in both hands, explosive fists of white-hot fury that found their mark way too many times throughout the bout - but The Champ outfought, outfoxed, and ultimately toppled the beast and won back his belt.

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