Post by The Wonderful Wachter on Feb 28, 2013 21:37:14 GMT -5
Jason grinned from ear to ear as his master finished wrapping the tape around his wrists and hands. It had been a custom order. A gift just for Jason from his favorite teacher. Red tape, not the boring white… Ted had gotten him his favorite color. It made Jason slightly uncomfortable in accepting it but his master had told him to man up and it had been done otherwise. About the only thing that could be would make the day even better… Maybe if he did good enough today, Ted would treat him to some of that tasty melon bread he had introduced the boy to.
The teacher and student couldn’t be any more different. Jason seemed to be all legs and arms – he was still going through puberty after all – whereas Ted was short, stocky, and made up of round muscle. A muscle type not usually found in the modern world but had been all the rage decades ago when Ted was his age. Dark red hair nearly brushed the boy’s shoulders. The man, on the other hand, had no hair to speak of… to better mask his age or so he said (Jason didn’t buy that story). Ted kept his shirt on while Jason removed his, displaying a set of abs any young man could be proud of. Yes. The two were truly different. The only thing they had in common were their eyes and even there, Jason’s were more grey than blue.
Ted nodded his approval of the job he had done and slid on up into boxing ring in the center of his gym. The boy knew how proud he was of the facility even if he tended to close early on the days of Jason’s training or given how run down – personality says Ted – it looked. Wildcat’s Gym… Worst kept secret in the world. Ted Grant was not the son of or grandson of Teddy “Wildcat” Grant, champion heavyweight boxer from the forties and on up through the seventies. He flat out was Teddy Grant… The one and only. Anyone with smart phone could figure that out. Hell, Jason had.
Following his boxing coach on up to the ring, Jason clapped his hands together and couldn’t help but smirk. He always had fun with Wildcat. The man was a teacher of more than just a fair number of martial arts. He told Jason about the ways of the world and taught him how to curse in over a dozen different languages . . . and a few other less savory phrases that Kate would frown on but were evidently vital for every young man to know during this difficult stage in his life.
“What ya want to hear about today?” asked Ted as he put on a pair of navy-blue practice gloves.
Jason began his warm-up routine, breaking into various combos and ducking when needed. In some ways, he preferred Ted’s style to his other teachers’. Ted never asked more from him than what Jason could give. He never asked anything about Jason and his feelings. It was simple training here. No meditating on his words or studying required. He could simply hit and fall into the flow. Besides, the most complicated discussions they had were about girls and not fighting.
“A fight you could never forget,” Jason replied after his deliberation nearly cost him a black eye.
“Doesn’t narrow things down as much as you thought,” Nothing had changed in the way he was talking yet Jason was ready for the following knee attack. Always had to be prepared, Ted had been switching up styles during practice keep the boy on his toes. “I get into a lot of fights and tend to only forget those that involve blows to the head or unholy amounts of tequila.”
“You know, the kind of fight where you can still feel it in your bones today.”
“Still doesn’t narrow it down,” Ted chuckled, his eyes sparkling with merriment, “but I think I got something for ya – ow!”
The ow came with an accompanying bounce and whumph of the mat after Jason aimed repeated low kicks at Ted’s legs followed by an overhead throw.
Ted accepted the proffered hand of help with a slightly less bemused air. “Yup… Definitely got one for ya… cocky, little bastard.”
“What was that, Coach?”
“I said, did I ever tell you about my first fight with The Dragon?”
The two fell into a rhythm as Wildcat began his story. Only rarely did either fighter use a style other than what was being taught. For all his knowledge, Ted was still the best stamina trainer. Anything else they did was extra.
---‘HAVEN---
Las Vegas, Nevada
Some time in the 70s
Only rarely in his long life had Ted felt like a small man… at least felt small physically. Sure, he was not a large man when compared to most heavyweight fighters but they tended to have the same amount of mass relatively. It was whole different matter comparing him to the man standing before him at this very moment. Amos Fortune, a man who dwarfed Wildcat like no other. He too followed the lost art of round muscle. In fact, Fortune’s father had been one of Ted’s opponents nearly twenty years prior. The only difference between the two men was that Fortune stood over a foot taller. He’d crush a man if he sat down atop of them.
“You want me to what?!” exclaimed Ted in disbelief. He was already dressed in his signature navy robe for his next bout.
“You,” Fortune let out a puff of his foul smelling cigar “will take a dive.”
Amos Fortune was well dressed as fitting a casino owner. And obviously, his fantastically tailored white suit had to be custom made to fit his giant frame. Yet neither money nor might would be enough to stop Ted from socking him a good one for even considering such an idiotic suggestion.
“I’m not gonna take a dive to that goddamn Commie!”
“He’s not a Communist.”
“His name is Drakunovski. That ain’t American!”
“Be that as it may, you will still lose the match.” Another, cocky puff of the cigar blew smoke in Ted’s face.
Ted began to pace in the lavishly furnished office. It wasn’t Fortune’s main office at the Royal Arcana Hotel and Casino but that didn’t stop it from being large enough to pace in… even if they were hundreds of feet below the surface in a literally underground arena. He stopped before a poster of the stunning gorgeous, raven haired beauty Queenie in a low cut scarlet gown. As he squinted at it, he realized she had even signed the poster to her Dear Friend Amos.
“And if I don’t?”
Puff, puff, smirk. “I’ll let some very interested people know the Secret of the Wildcat. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”
---‘HAVEN---
Well, Ted had to admit, Drakunovski didn’t look Russian. He had a baby face with strawberry blond hair and dressed like he was some Kung Fu king in some sort of flowing pants and single shoulder robe combination. That was okay. Ted knew his way around Wushu. Drakunovski was probably a punk kid posing as a real fighter… Or that’s what Ted thought going into the match.
The Renegade Fist Gaol… That’s what the arena went by. It was an underground fighting ring that didn’t frown on the whole accidental deaths and prided itself on bloodshed. The Gaol part of the name referred to the cage surrounding the ring. Once inside, the fighters could not leave until only one remained standing. Ted prided himself on always being the last one left standing. He’d fought in the Gaol a handful of times, usually when he had lost his shoes in the casino above, and each time he came out alive at the end. Probably why Fortune wanted him to take a dive. Fortune wanted to make a fortune on betting against him.
Too bad Ted wasn’t accustomed to losing.
The crowd had gathered, the arena had filled. The right people had been bribed to look the other way from this bloodsport. Ted felt more than heard the door to the cage close behind him. Too loud to properly hear that. Too many people. He could take this punk kid.
The kid met his eyes and Ted recognized that look. They were old, they were feral… He was facing a killer. One that was more than he appeared.
What did they call him? Ah… right. The Dragon. The match was billed as “Wildcat VS The Dragon.”
The ring announcer came on, introducing both fighters. There was an appropriate amount of frenzied cheering at Ted’s. Drakunovski, Richard was his first name, had the opposite reaction. There was a hushed silence that should never happen in an arena. Too quiet. Not even the mutterings of “Who’s he.”
Richard bowed to him.
Ted inclined his head.
The match was under way.
It happened instantly. Wildcat was going to start slow, as he always did, better to wear his opponent down until he got a feel for for them, when the Dragon was already on him. Ted only had time to look at the fist an inch away from his heart, nowhere near enough to dodge, before pain enveloped him. He hadn’t seen Richard move from his corner. Nor had he seen the punch.
One punch… so much force. Ted knew it had been a killing blow before he had finished falling to the mat.
Who said he needed to take a dive? He’d lost fair and square.
---‘HAVEN---
“So what happened next?” panted Jason as he wiped sweat from his brow.
“Hmm?”
“Did you win?”
Ted gave him his best incredulous look. “Didn’t I just say it was a killing blow?”
“Well, yeah,” Jason allowed, “but you’re still, y’know. Alive.”
“There is that,” Wildcat laughed. He tossed the kid a towel. “Go wash up. School night.”
“Ah c’mon. You can’t leave me on that.”
“Course I can. Now go.”
Jason left him alone in the ring, muttering darkly as he retreated into the locker-room. Once the door had closed, Ted reached up to rub his chest over his heart. Forty or so years later and he could still remember the feel of that blow. He could still remember the awe and fear it had inspired. Never before had he encountered a foe who so outclassed him as Richard had.
Never before had he felt so… small.