My opponent's eyes glitter mischievously under the dimly lit streetlights. Sweat-soaked strands of black hair cling to her reddened cheeks as she sizes me up, studying every inch of my toned body. A confident grin spreads itself across her face as she meets my gaze. She has a cocky demeanor, one fluffed and padded by many triumphs in the streets. To her, I am nothing. Just another amateur adversary in her road to victory. Her lack of respect for me is clear in her cold eyes, but it is not unexpected.
I take a deep breath, turning away from my challenger. I stare out at the gathered crowd, my eyes narrowed slightly. The sound of screams and shouts of spectator anticipation barely pierce through the jumble of loudly spoken conversations. I can feel the energy peeling off of the horde in thick waves, fueling my desire to knock the arrogant smirk from my competitor's face. 'All in due time, all in due time,' I remind myself with a vicious grin of my own.
The mob's decibel level spikes noticeably, their excited movement becoming chaotic. It is time. I face my opponent, a silent determination present in my gaze. She appears to be more than ready, her hands balled into fists and held in front of her face. I chuckle with a shake of my head, mimicking her stance. We lock eyes almost immediately, both of us remaining still, waiting for the other to take the first hit.
My rival is directly in front of me in an instant, sending her fist barreling towards my gut. I am slow to react, but I still manage to dodge, just barely missing the low aimed blow. I retaliate quickly, clipping her in the jaw with my knuckles. The hit doesn't phase her in the slightest. If one hadn't seen what transpired with their own eyes, they might even question if I made contact with her unblemished skin.
Before I can defend myself, her fist comes smashing into my face, connecting with my nose. I recoil hastily, blood drips from my nostrils and collects on my upper lip before spilling over. The metallic taste of my own blood is not an unfamiliar one. With a grunt, I lunge at her, throwing an upper cut straight into her chin. Her mouth snaps shut, the sound of teeth colliding with teeth silencing a few of the closer spectators. Grinning ear to ear, she sends a bloody wad of spit in my direction, a small chunk of, what I assume to be, her tooth falling to the ground.
The crowd is shouting out terms of encouragement. But they are directed at her, not me. In their minds, the winner has already been chosen. She dances towards me, her fists flying at me in a blur. I feel the hits before I have even decided where they are aimed for. Left hook to my jaw, jab to my gut, right hook to my eye. The horde goes wild. I stumble back from the pressure, gasping for breath. The pain is dull, my adrenaline numbing it temporarily.
I refuse to lose. Darting forward, I hit her square in the chest. Her ribcage is next, followed by her mouth. And finally, directly to her belly. She keels over, her hands on her knees. I can see the blood pouring from her mouth, splattering onto the pavement in thick puddles. An opportunity has presented itself. I take it. Mustering up all of my strength, I send a right hook flying into the side of her head. A low moan escapes her lips before she falls to the side, her body crumpled on the ground.
The crowd is silent, stunned by what just occurred. I smirk, raising my arms in a victorious manner. The silence is broken by the sound of cheering and clapping. My victim remains on the pavement, curled up. She looks broken and bloody.
"Now I know why they call you Knuckles," I chuckle.
The story flowed very well and had good descriptions and emotions, I didn't see anything wrong with it I really liked it my favorite paragraph is:
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