The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

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Caesar
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The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

Post by Caesar » 23 Dec 2018, 12:55

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Caesar
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The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

Post by Caesar » 24 Dec 2018, 10:55

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“He caught you with one there, huh? It’s okay. It happens. This is boxing after all. It doesn’t matter that you got knocked down. You can get him back in the next round. You did the right thing, though. You took your time and you got back up. That’s what champions do, Abel. They get back up.”

---

“It’s closing time, Timmy. Time to cash out and go home to your wife,” Abel Devaux said to the man who had fallen asleep on a slot machine. A cup hung loosely from his fingers, beer staining the cheap carpet beneath him. But this was nothing new. No, this happened every night.

Abel scratched at his neck as the polyester security uniform he wore chaffed at his skin. Timmy was stopping him from going home as well, and it had been a long night already. He reached for the old man’s shoulder to rouse him, but Timmy woke as he did.

Startled, he fell off the stool and hit the floor in a heap. He groaned and spluttered a few curses, ready to fight who had knocked him off his perch until he saw who was standing over him. “Christ, Abel. You can’t let a man get a few winks in before he goes home to an old bat? What time is it anyway? I got time for a few more?”

“No more, Timmy. Time to go. If you hurry, you might be able to catch a glimpse of Diane bending over when she picks up the last few trays of chips.”

That was all it took for him to pull himself up off the floor and stumble his way to the front of the tiny casino. Abel didn’t know what it was about that old woman that people liked to look at, but if it made his job any easier then he was willing to let it go.

Standing the stool up once more, Abel continued his last rounds of the night. A few hours ago, there were a few more regulars on the floor of the casino. Instead of just the sound of slot machines beeping and trying to draw the passerby, you could hear the sound of someone losing their mortgage because they thought they had the dealer.

This was his life.

---

A couple hours later, Abel rested his head against the tattered leather wrapping the steering wheel of his ’99 Mercury Tracer as he sat at one of the four stop lights in Nueva Providencia, a small border town in Texas. Every night, he would catch one of the lights. Every night, he would think about running it. There were no other cars on the streets.

He never ran it.

After two years of living in the town and working at the Fire Horse Casino, he was still viewed as an outsider – which he very much was. Neither the sheriff nor his deputies took too kindly to him when he rocked up in their community of 10,000 give or take.

It didn’t help that his roommate was fucking the sheriff’s daughter.

As the light turned green, his phone rang. The Tracer lurched forward, stuttering a few times before getting up to anything resembling a moving speed. Abel reached into the cup holder and swiped his thumb across the screen.

“Yeah?” he said when the line connected.

“Carnal, I need a favor.”

Speak of the devil…

Abel sighed. “What is it, Miguel?”

“Beatriz came to visit from Laredo. She’s going to spend the night.”

“I’m not sleeping in my fucking car, so you can get some pussy. She’ll just have to be alright with being an exhibitionist.”

“No, güey. It’s nothing weird like that.” There was shuffling in the background and then the sound of two women laughing. “She brought her friend from school, Celia. Beatriz doesn’t want her to feel lonely tonight so go grab some rubbers, yeah?”

Abel shook his head as he turned onto the long, winding, almost dirt road that led to the shotgun house that he and Miguel shared.

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Carnal, you work at the fucking casino. Like the smell of regret will only be coming from you tomorrow afternoon.”

The Tracer pulled to a stop in front of the house. Two other vehicles sat outside. Miguel’s old Ford truck and Beatriz’s relatively new sedan. Even though it wasn’t particularly fancy, it stood out in front of a house that had seen much better days.

“I’m getting out my car now.”

“Simón! You a real one and don’t let no one tell you different, eh?!” As soon as Abel hung up the phone, Miguel poked his head out of the door. “Hey, she said bring la chingada boxing gloves from your trunk. You might need them to protect yourself.”
Abel shook his head. “No.”

“C’mon, carnal. Just do it, bro.” And with that, Miguel retreated back into the house.

Sighing, Abel walked around to his trunk and untied the rope that held it in place. Garbage bags with old clothes hanging out of them took of most of the space, but in the bottom of it all lay a single trophy and a pair of old boxing gloves.

He picked up the gloves and tested their weight in his hands. It had been a long time since he’d actually put them on. He wasn’t even sure how Miguel knew that they were in his trunk. Tucking them under his arm, he shut the trunk – and it popped back up. He decided he was too tired to try to retie the knot.

The porch creaked under him as he walked up the steps and the light over the door flickered. He could smell the beer and weed even from outside.

He tapped the gloves with his opposite hand before opening the door. The gloves were his past.

This was his life.
Last edited by Caesar on 31 Dec 2018, 07:28, edited 1 time in total.
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Rob
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The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

Post by Rob » 25 Dec 2018, 12:34

Nice set up, can't wait to see Abel get back into boxing
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djp73
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The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

Post by djp73 » 26 Dec 2018, 07:05

great intro, following for sure
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Chillcavern
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Post by Chillcavern » 27 Dec 2018, 14:47

Caesar writing chise, def. following. Great intro
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The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

Post by Caesar » 31 Dec 2018, 12:43

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Four years ago – Baton Rouge, Louisiana

The sound of leather hitting leather echoed through a dinghy gym on the northern edge of the city. A tall, lanky kid circled a heavy bag throwing punches. Jab, jab, straight, step. Jab, straight, weave, uppercut to the body. Jab, jab, step, straight.

“That’s right, youngster! Jab! Jab! Weave! Keep moving and throwing punches in bunches! We don’t train no fighters who block shots with their mouth! Move!”

Jab, step, jab, weave, hook, body shot.

“Hands up! Don’t get tired now! The other man ain’t gonna get tired and when you drop your hands, he’s going to drop you!”

Uppercut, jab, jab, hook, step, hook. Jab, jab, jab, step, hook.

Three computerized beeps rang out. The fighter picked up his pace, throwing flurry after flurry. More power shots. Fewer jabs. He leaned into the heavy bag with one hand up and threw a few shots to the “body” before backing up with a hook high.

“Time! Good stuff, Abel, but remember to keep your elbows in and your hands up. You might have the reach advantage on a lot of these guys, but you take one too many counter shots to face and you’ll be face down on the canvas.”

Hands on hips, Abel nodded as he tried to suck in as much oxygen as he could. “Yeah, I hear you, D’Anthony,” he said.

D’Anthony threw a towel at him. “Don’t ‘yeah, I hear you,’ me. This ain’t fighting lil’ motherfuckers down Scotland Ave. You got all that height, but sticks got more meat on they bones. Unless you’re trying to cut to make bantamweight, you’re going to have stay on your toes and not let these short, stumpy mini-Butterbean looking kids hit you with them hamhocks. You got that?”

“What do you want me to say to that?”

“What… What do I want you to say? Fucking say ‘Yes, D’Anthony. I’m not going to let the fat white boys hit me because I know I can’t take too many shots. You are a very wise and helpful trainer to stop me from taking a beating.”

“All of what you said,” Abel laughed.

“You won’t be laughing when Skyler catches you on the mouth with a hook and rings your bell even through the headgear. Get your ass back in front that bag and go again!”

“I can’t get no water?”

“Water’s for the weak. Get your ass back in front that bag.” D’Anthony shook his head. “Talking about any ‘can’t I get water.’ The fuck he thinks this is? St. Vincent?” He turned back to Abel and snapped, pointing at the bag. “I don’t hear no punching!”

Abel put his hands up and went through the motions once more. In a few weeks, a real target would be in front of him. Another lightweight would be standing across from him for his first junior bout in Monroe.

Nerves were beginning to set in. He was too heavy for a bantamweight and close to being too light for a lightweight, but he couldn’t keep more weight on and cutting was nigh on impossible when his mother demanded he eat three square meals a day.

D’Anthony’s words were true. His opponents would be at the weight limit. They would be stronger. He would have to be faster and use his reach to his advantage when he could.

---

Present day – Nueva Providencia, Texas

Abel came to a stop in front of a diner at the corner of Nueva Providencia’s main drag. He doubled over and struggled to catch his breath. He was out of shape – likely because he only ran after he had sex these days. He was a regular at the diner, though, Rebecca’s Last Stop as it was called because it was the last place to get food from in the town before you left it.

He went through every morning for breakfast, ordered the same thing, sat in the same booth in the same old waitress’s section. They did the same song and dance as he ate, paid, and left. That day was only different in that he ran there instead of driving.

Walking into the diner, the manager who was standing at the host’s stand handed him a menu without looking away from the conversation that he was having with a trucker.

He sat in his usual booth facing the street and his typical waitress, Maggie, set a mug on the table in front of him and began filling it with coffee. She set down two packets of sugar when the mug was filled.

“Morning, Abel,” she said. Her voice was scratchy, likely from years of working in a diner and even more years of smoking.

He looked up at the aging woman. She was a Nueva Providencia lifer and it showed on her face. Once, she’d told him that her parents ended up there because her father was an international trucker and living close to the border seemed like a good idea. Her husband, now an ex-husband, left town a couple years back. He wanted a wall.

“Morning, Maggie.”

“Are you going to try something different today?” She asked him every day if he was going to try something else on the menu.

“I’ll just take the usual. Three pancakes, two eggs scrambled, two pieces of bacon and two links of sausage. And the coffee, of course.”

Maggie shrugged as she turned to put in his order. She hadn’t bothered writing it down. She never did.

Abel looked out onto Main Street at the few people beginning their mornings this early. He was sure that it was the same people every day. Shopkeepers coming to get their stores ready for the day or the local bank’s manager opening for the little old women of Nueva Providencia to deposit their saved pennies and dimes.

It seemed like everyone in the town was old. The younger citizens got out when they could, if they could. Those that couldn’t ended up like Miguel, living vicariously through others or making weekend trips to Mexico or Houston. Abel liked it that way.

The table shifted under his hands and a Hispanic man, probably in his 30s, sat across from him.

“Can I help you?” Abel asked.

“Si, you can. My name is Alberto Reyes. I’m Celia’s brother.”

“I’m too old to be fighting brothers for their sister’s honor. She’s a grown woman.”

Alberto laughed. “You’ve got me wrong, amigo. You’re right. She is a grown woman. I don’t care what she gets up to with mayates.”

Abel let the racial slur pass without response. “So, why am I talking to you? I don’t know you, amigo.”

“That cabrón, Miguel, told Celia and Beatriz that you are a fighter. I’m a promoter down in Mexico. I’m sure you need some money. I think you can help me.”

“I’m not a boxer anymore.”

“Yeah, and I’m paying for the wall, cabrón. You don’t just put down your gloves unless you realize that you have no business in the ring. Are you running from beatings? ¿No tienes los huevos para la lucha? Eh? No more cajones?”

“Haven’t met a man yet who could beat me.” Abel shrugged. The highest level he’d fought at was elite men’s, his last fight two years ago, but the statement wasn’t entirely false.

“I got a couple guys on my roster who need opponents. How much do you weigh? 165? 170?”

“I’m not a boxer anymore.”

“Just answer the question, amigo. Think you can cut to middleweight?”

Abel shook his head. “I’m 196 pounds.”

“Mierda,” Alberto leaned forward as if he could tell how much Abel weighed by looking at him sitting down. “Looks can be deceiving, eh? Well, if you can pack on five or six more pounds, I can set you up with a fight with the future heavyweight champion of the world, Beto Cruz. You’ll split the purse 80-20. Beto getting 80.”

“I’m not a boxer anymore,” Abel repeated.

“We’re talking about thousands of dollars you’re leaving on the table, amigo.”

Maggie returned and set three plates in front of Abel. She glanced at Alberto, but he waved her off as he started to stand up.

“Need anything else, hun?” she asked Abel.

“Fresh coffee, please This one’s gone cold because of my friend here,” Abel said. Maggie nodded and headed back to the counter.

Alberto held his hands up, a card in his left. “I’ll leave you to your huevos, cabrón. But take my card, because I have a feeling you’ll change your mind.” He placed the card on the table and left the diner.

Glancing at the rectangular slice of card stock, Abel picked it up, folded it twice, and dropped it into the mug of coffee before picking up his fork and beginning to eat.
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djp73
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The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

Post by djp73 » 31 Dec 2018, 13:01

another nice update, interested to see how you get him in the ring
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Captain Canada
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The Last Shot | Fight Night Champion

Post by Captain Canada » 01 Jan 2019, 19:05

Sheesh, no one can write like you brother. Keep it coming.
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Rob
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Post by Rob » 02 Jan 2019, 07:29

Good update, interesting to see he's a heavyweight though. I was expecting middle or super-middle.
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Chillcavern
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Post by Chillcavern » 02 Jan 2019, 17:14

Really liking this thus far Caesar! Very curious to see where you're going with this :hmm:
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