Patience is a Virtue

The stadium was silent, everyone tense, waiting to see who will make the first move. 20 seconds passed before Drake spoke.

"Val, is it? That will change soon when you're bouncing on my cock!"

He stared at you and said, in an attempt to aggravate you into making the first move.

Drake Barlow finally began to lose his patience after some more time passed.

'Why am I waiting for this fucker? Don't you dare look down on me!' Drake pumped himself up and decided to go on the offense, unable to wait any longer.

He moved towards you, appearing in front of you almost instantly, and threw a fast jab right at you.

The pressure emitted by this punch reminded you of your childhood when your father beat you for making even the smallest of mistakes. You knew that if even one punch landed squarely on you, then this pile of muscle called Drake would have his dick pounding you.

But unlike your fathers... It was too slow.

As the punch approached you, you instantly stepped to the side, avoiding the blow by a hair.

Drake frowned for an instant before continuing his offensive. He threw punches rapidly while shouting.

"MUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDAMUDA" (lol)

Drake's punches were at almost inhuman speed while lacing kicks in between to knock you over.

Unfortunately, it is futile as you dodge every punch with minimal effort, dodging, and weaving while waiting for an opening before you can strike.

The audience was stunned; it was expected to be an instant KO, but instead, it just dragged out.

"DAMN IT, STOP MOVING YOU FUCKER!"

He swears violently, uncaring of the audience's whispers, and attempts to smash his right elbow straight into your abdomen after failing to land any of his punches, dodging this would leave him open.

This was what you were waiting for. Patience was a virtue, and this saying rang true once again. Sidestepping to your right, you avoided his elbow strike and winded up your leg, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick to his abdomen.

This made Drake stumble backward, and taking advantage of this, you rush forward and begin your own flurry of attacks, not giving Drake a chance to breathe.

"AHHHH!!!”

Drake's body was bruised and beaten. His expression bloodthirsty as a line of blood trickles down from his lips. But the battle was not over. Drake was known for his incredible endurance.

'Fuck, who is this guy? How the hell is he so agile!' Drake thought to himself as he finally broke free from your attacks.

The battle continued, and soon the battle only had 20 seconds left. Drake didn't want this to go to round 2, so he decided to take out his trump card.

Winding his arm back, he lowered his body before shooting forward like a rocket attempting to land his famous left hook that he was known for.

But with the injuries he sustained, it wasn't as sharp or fast as usual, and you took advantage of that to avoid this strike, letting it barely graze you.

Drake was stunned by this. This move had never failed to land!

"AAAGHH"

Drake screamed as you delivered a powerful kick from behind him, launching to the ground, causing him to roll a couple of times.

He lay on the ground, unable to move. The audience was dumbfounded by what they witnessed. Finally, the referee left her stupor and began to countdown.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4,..."

Drake's body twitched, trying his best to get up but failing.

"3, 2, 1!"

"Knock out! The winner is Val Woods!"

"Which pill do you want," The referee asked.

"Give me a pink plus."

Drake was an arrogant asshole, and that was his downfall. Breaking his spirit would be incredible fun, you thought to yourself. A plus was required, so you don't have to worry about him trying to kill you in your sleep.

The referee gave you the pill with the plus inscribed on it.

Walking over to the beaten Drake, who struggled to get up, you **** the medicine down his throat before he could resist. The seeded fighter has fallen, and his fate sealed.