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	#Post#: 1530--------------------------------------------------
	A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 5 - Target Practice
	By: RampageSports Date: May 24, 2015, 10:27 pm
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	A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 5 - Target Practice
	Brittany and I ascended the steps and entered the cage.
	"I think you're just afraid of me," she sniped.
	"Afraid of killing you? Sure," I said.
	"Nah. You're afraid of finding out you're too old and slow."
	I stopped and looked at her in disbelief.
	"Really?" I said. "You think so?"
	"Yeah," she said defiantly as a little smile crept across her
	face.
	"Okay," I said as I set the mitts down on the canvas.
	I walked back to the cage door and retrieved my gym bag from
	where I'd left it on the apron. I had some loose change in the
	side pocket, and I dug out a quarter.
	I went back to Brittany and held the quarter on in front of me
	in the center of my palm.
	"Take it," I said.
	She reached out to take it, and I closed my hand.
	"What? Are we in high school?" she asked as she figured out my
	game.
	"You're so much faster than me," I said with a shrug, "take the
	coin."
	I held my hand out again. This time, she was more careful...
	flexing her fingers and waiting for the right moment to strike.
	It made little difference. My hand snapped closed again when
	she finally made her move.
	"Again," she said, a note of frustration in her voice.
	I held the coin out, and she plotted her approach. This time,
	she tried faking a few times to see if she could throw me off.
	I never flinched, giving her the impression I was just going to
	hold my hand there all day. But, when she finally made her
	move, I secured the quarter before she could get to it.
	"How are you doing that?" she asked.
	"I don't know," I answered. "With me being so slow, it must be
	some kind of miracle."
	Insult to injury. Now she was really getting annoyed.
	"Again," she said.
	We did it three more times. The quarter never left my
	possession.
	"It's easier for the one holding the quarter," she said.
	"Ohhh..." I said. "Excuse time, huh? Okay."
	I flipped her the quarter. She caught it and worked it into
	position. As soon as she opened her hand, I took the coin away
	from her.
	"Hey! I wasn't ready!"
	"Did you know I was going to take the coin?"
	"Yeah..."
	"Then why weren't you ready?"
	That made her angrier than anything else because she knew I was
	right.
	She motioned for me to return the coin, which I did. This time,
	I let her get her hand set. I drew my right hand up in front of
	me, then watched her until I saw what I wanted. With a flick of
	my hand, I took the quarter, again.
	Frustration had settled into determination.
	"Again," she said.
	Twice more, I took the coin with ease. By the fifth try,
	though, she had worked out my timing and managed to get her hand
	closed in time.
	"Ha!"
	"Yeah, fifth time's the charm," I said sarcastically. "Do it
	again."
	She held the coin out, and I slowly moved my right hand toward
	it. I inched closer and closer, until my fingers were only
	inches from palm and we were both practically nose-to-nose...
	focusing on the quarter.
	Then, using mostly my arm, I reached in and took the coin away
	with my other hand.
	"That's not fair," she said.
	"Why not?" I asked. "I have two hands, don't I?"
	"Fine," she said and motioned for me to give her the quarter
	back.
	With a few different techniques on the table, I mixed things up
	and got it away from her on three of the next five tries before
	she figured out how to stop me consistently.
	Then, I introduced my final technique.
	Instead of bringing my right hand up in front of me, I brought
	it up under hers. I slapped the back of her hand, the coin
	popped up and I caught it with my left.
	"That's cheating," she said.
	"I prefer to think of it as exploring all avenues for success."
	"It's still cheating."
	"You say so," I said. "So, what did we learn here?"
	"That you're a cheater."
	"And proud of it," I said as I put the quarter away. "But, we
	also learned that maybe you're not as fast as you think you are.
	And that I'm not so slow, after all. Most importantly, we
	learned that I know more ways to win than you do."
	"Stealing a coin doesn't prove anything," she said.
	"You would rather I prove it with my fists?" I asked
	"Yeah."
	"You just got your ass kicked by Joss Stone. Now, you think you
	can take me? I guess your confidence hasn't been shaken."
	"I'm better than I was in that fight," she answered.
	I put the mitts back on and said, "Show me."
	We took up positions in the center of the cage, and she did just
	that.
	She was quick... maybe not Emma quick, but certainly fast enough
	to do a lot of damage in a hurry. And dealing damage was where
	she really shined. She packed a lot of muscle into her five
	foot three inch frame, and Steph had given her the technique she
	needed to put it all to work for her. The girl hit like a
	wrecking ball.
	The one problem I spotted was in her accuracy. Working the
	mitts for Emma was not too complicated. Get your positioning
	right, and put the mitt where it should be and she'd drill it
	dead center, every time. Brittany's strikes were always in the
	right vicinity, but the exact point of impact floated around a
	little bit.
	If you think that sounds dangerous for the receiver, you'd be
	right. The mitts were about the same size as a human face, so
	the odds that she'd miss completely were low. But she only
	needed to be off-center by an inch or two to cause the mitt to
	rotate. With her power, that would not be a good thing for my
	wrist. And if she missed by more than a couple of inches, there
	was a good chance she'd punch through the edge of the mitt.
	That would not be a good thing for my face.
	The solution was obvious. If she couldn't put the punch where
	the mitt was, I had to put the mitt where the punch was. Simple
	to say, but not so easy to do when everything is moving at full
	speed. There was no way to watch where each punch was going.
	Focusing on one hand too much meant I was going to get slugged
	with the other. It all had to be done while keeping my eyes
	forward.
	Once we got past the basics, the first thing Danni had drilled
	into me was that the mitts would not protect me if didn't know
	exactly where the punch was going. She said the way to do it
	was to focus on the fighter's body. Everything you need to know
	is right there in the torso. It was a concept I thought I
	understood. After all, reading my opponent was something I'd
	done throughout my career. But, the truth was that the two
	really weren't comparable. As a fighter, I just needed to
	determine the general target my opponent was headed for. If she
	was aiming for the left side of my head, I had two strategies...
	get a hand up to deflect it, or get my head the hell out of the
	way. As a receiver, the goal is totally different. My job was
	to stand there and take the punch... to absorb it with the mitt.
	That meant precision was key. I needed to know exactly where
	it was going to land.
	The key was in the finer movements of the fighter's torso. Tiny
	differences in the way she turned or in the angle of her arm
	would make a big difference in where the punch went. On this
	point, I struggled with making the conversion from fighter to
	receiver. As usual, Danni had a plan.
	She showed up one night with no mitts, no gloves... no fighting
	apparatus of any kind.
	The only thing she had with her was a quarter.
	What? You thought it was an original idea?
	She had me try to protect the quarter while she tried to take
	it. I started off pretty good, having little trouble keeping
	her at bay. Then, she started mixing in the use of both hands,
	some feints and even some cheap moves.
	Twenty minutes later, I just wanted to give her the f*cking
	quarter so she would leave me alone.
	Once she had me properly frustrated... which I firmly believe
	she did just for fun... she started teaching me how to read
	those fine movements. Not only did I learn how to quickly see
	where her attempts were coming from, but also how to spot a
	feint from the real thing.
	The concept sank in much more easily once she separated it from
	fighting. I no longer had to worry about falling into old
	habits, because we were doing something completely different.
	Once I understood how it worked, I had no trouble applying it to
	using the mitts.
	I know she probably got the idea from someone else, but, as far
	as I'm concerned, that Danni is a genius.
	I pushed Brittany until she'd just about punched herself out.
	No special skills are needed to spot when that's happening. You
	can see the fatigue in the fighter's arms, in her feet and in
	her torso. Everything starts to sag and slow down.
	Not to mention the fact that the receiver is equally exhausted.
	Both of us were drenched with sweat by the time I waved her off.
	We stood silently for a few minutes as we tried to catch our
	breath.
	"That enough proof for you?" she asked.
	"Not bad," I said between heaves. "You know... for a rookie."
	I knew she was truly exhausted, because she didn't even bother
	with a comeback.
	"What the hell was the point of this, anyway?" she asked.
	"I just wanted to talk."
	She arched an eyebrow.
	"The reason I can't lift my arms is because you wanted to talk?"
	I shrugged.
	"Now, I don't have to worry about you doing anything stupid."
	That wasn't really true. My reason for getting her out here was
	that I knew she would be more comfortable this way... with her
	gloves on... standing in the cage... looking and feeling like a
	fighter should.
	An owner giving a fighter a pep talk in the locker room was a
	waste of time. But, a little girl talk between warriors could
	be very effective.
	"So, talk," she said.
	"The other night wasn't really your fault."
	She looked at me like I had three heads.
	"How the hell do you figure that?"
	"Tell me what you did wrong."
	"I got my ass kicked."
	"Try to be a little more specific."
	She shook her head disgustedly as she replayed the fight in her
	head.
	"I had my head up my ass in the first round."
	"Not totally true, but I'll give you that one. It didn't
	matter, though. You got out of it. You were ready to go in the
	second."
	"Yeah, but..."
	She let the thought trail off.
	"But what?"
	"I don't know what the f*ck happened," she admitted.
	I nodded my understanding.
	"Nobody wants to admit it, but sometimes, sh*t just goes wrong.
	There's no explanation and nothing you can do about it."
	"That's not exactly helpful."
	"Sure it is," I said. "If you admit that it's true."
	Her eyes were focused on the canvas... her mind drifting through
	scenes of the carnage.
	"She whipped my ass so bad."
	"That was actually your fault."
	A flash of anger showed on her face as she turned to me.
	"I wasn't going to stay down," she hissed.
	"I'm not even going to argue that with you," I said. "The fact
	remains that the beating was much more brutal because you kept
	getting up."
	Her eyes went back to the canvas.
	"Even if you don't care about yourself," I added, "what you put
	Joss through was pretty sh*tty."
	"She understands," the blond grumbled.
	"Okay," I said.
	I said I wasn't going to argue, and I meant it.
	"My point is, sometimes the breaks don't go your way. I've had
	my ass kicked plenty of times. Losing because you're not good
	enough sucks, but you can fix it. Losing because things just
	don't go your way can make you feel..."
	"... helpless."
	"Yeah," I said.
	"That's what I felt," she said. "The whole time, I just felt
	helpless. I'm supposed to be able to defend myself. To fight
	back. It's what I train for. To get destroyed like that... it
	was humiliating."
	"I know."
	"What do I do?"
	"Forget it," I said. "What happened the other night had nothing
	to do with skill or ability. Joss happened to catch you
	perfectly a few times, and then it fell apart on you. The
	harder you tried, the worse it got."
	"I can't do that."
	"Well, then think about what you could have done to pull it back
	together. Talk with Steph, and see if you can learn from it.
	But, don't let it drag on you. We both know you're better than
	what you showed."
	She started to respond when the training room door slammed open
	and Danni's voice echoed through the room.
	"I can NOT f*cking believe this!"
	"Easy, Danni..." I said.
	"Don't 'easy' me. How many f*cking times are we going to do
	this?"
	"We're not even sparring," I protested. "It was just some mitt
	drills."
	"Sure. That's how it starts."
	"What the f*ck are you talking about?"
	"YOU told me you're not supposed to be doing this sh*t, anymore.
	But, I constantly find you in here. Late... when no one else
	is around."
	"Danni, I don't need a babysitter."
	"I disagree," she snapped. "But, really... I don't know why I
	give a sht. You're gonna do whatever the fck you want,
	anyway."
	Then, she turned and slammed her way back through the door.
	"What the hell was that?" I mumbled to no one in particular.
	"I think that's what you were looking for," Brittany said.
	"What?"
	"I think you found someone to watch out for you."
	This is not how it's supposed to work. I turn other people's
	words back on them, not the other way around.
	"I can see now why you hate it," I quipped.
	She shrugged.
	"Maybe it's not so bad."
	We locked eyes, and I gave her a little nod. Then, I looked off
	toward the door as I thought about what she'd said a moment ago.
	"Go," she said to me.
	"But..."
	"I got your message, and I appreciate it," she said with a
	smile. "Now, go."
	I nodded... slowly at first, then more emphatically as I
	realized she was right.
	"Okay," I said.
	Then I slung the mitts to the canvas, and hurried after Danni.
	[hr]
	Character Reference
	https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjM…
	Name: Richelle Winterfeld
	Nickname(s):
	Background: Owner of the RSI stable, former underground fighter
	https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjM…
	Name: Danneel Harris
	Nickname(s): Danni
	Background: RSI stable leader, reigning DEF welterweight
	champion
	https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjM…
	Name: Stephanie McMahon
	Nickname(s): Steph
	Background: RSI's fighter development coordinator, reigning SCQ
	super heavyweight champion
	https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjM…
	Name: Brittany Tacy
	Nickname(s):
	Background: FAC lightweight contender
	https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjM…
	Name: Emma Watson
	Nickname(s):
	Background: Reigning FAC featherweight champion, training
	partner and romantic partner of Tiffany Mulheron
	https://aade768506dacb303a01a361d3dc0d27209a5ec4.googledrive.com/host/0Bz8YsEjM…
	Name: Tiffany Mulheron
	Nickname(s): Tiff
	Background: Reigning ESL featherweight champion, training
	partner and romantic partner of Emma Watson
	#Post#: 1531--------------------------------------------------
	Re: A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 5 - Target Practice
	By: Dragons Den Date: May 24, 2015, 11:31 pm
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	Haha, fantastic. Is it a pre-requisite to fighting for RSI that
	you have a bit of a cheeky attitude? Or does Richelle just earn
	that kind of response from her fighters? :P
	Another fun read, and I'm liking Brittany. I wouldn't want to
	p*ss her off, but she's going to make one hell of a fighter for
	your mob.
	Speaking of p*ssed off - Good luck with Danni! Can't wait to
	read the next chapter. Great work again! :D
	#Post#: 1533--------------------------------------------------
	Re: A Puncher's Chance - Chapter 5 - Target Practice
	By: RampageSports Date: May 26, 2015, 12:47 pm
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	I think having an attitude is something of a prerequisite for
	all fighters. However, Richelle does try to paint herself as
	being just one of the girls. Perhaps she'd get a little more
	respect if she reconsidered that approach.
	Then again, maybe not. :P
	I'm glad you enjoyed it. As for Danni... well, we'll just have
	to see what her problem is. Truth is, I'm still working that
	out, myself. :D
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