Uppercut

You grit your teeth and plant your feet. Your mid section tenses and contracts as your right arm comes upwards in a short explosive motion. Lewis' head jerks back in a frightening manner as the red of your glove bashes his chin into the top of his skull. His body goes rigid and his knees lock as the Boxer falls. You step back to your corner and the world begins to bleed back into perspective. Your ears are ringing not just from the multiple punches you've taken but from the roaring crowd as well, is that Morgan's voice? Lewis is laid flat out on the ground. The ref begins counting with her hands in the air.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

"Four!"

"Five!"

"Six!"

"Seven!"

Lewis stands back up. His eyes are fierce and unyielding. You take a deep breath. Good, fucking bring it. The ref gives him a quick check up and gives the okay. Lewis rushes you, throwing away his jabbing stance for an even footed style that allows for greater hooks and power in both hands. The style shift catches you off guard for but a moment. But in that moment you eat a three hit combination, a left hook to the ribs, a right hook to the abs, and another right hook to match. You power through and swing for the fences, your hooks rip a path forward to the middle of the ring, away from Lewis' renewed ****. You're wrapped tight as Lewis holds you in a clinch, you throw him off with your superior power and work the inside angles to sneak in an array of strikes. Except Lewis slips out of the way every single time, it has to be an act of God, you're sure of it. At this range you've never missed. Lewis laughs as he creates space between the two of you. You stand still, replenishing your stamina with deep heavy breaths. Lewis rushes you and you move to meet him, sparks fly as the two of you begin to trade in the middle of the ring. Whatever grace and technique that was involved in the fight beforehand has been thrown away. It's a slobberknocker now. Your punches feel crisp, sharp, and so fast, you've never felt this fast before, so light and free. Lewis must feel the same way for the fighter is smiling from ear to ear in a wicked way. A right hand strikes you in the chin, in the same moment you drive your left fist into Lewis' liver. Your opponent retaliates with a quick uppercut, you weave downwards and to the right and load up on your hips. Your breath feels heavy in your lungs and your limbs feel like lead. It's now or never, you have to end this fight.