How To Pack A Punch

The night was heavy, the kind of darkness that clings to your skin and fills the air with tension. I kept a firm grip on Bryant’s arm as we made our way back to his place. In the end, I couldn't get the full story from him, but I knew enough to understand he was in deep.

His face was pale. I could see the pain in his eyes, though he tried to hide it. Another side of him I hadn't seen before. We were almost there, almost safe, but something in the pit of my stomach told me that safety was a luxury we weren’t going to get tonight.

As we walked, a few low voices cut through the veil, low and indistinct at first, but getting clearer with each step. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, a cold frost grabbing every inch of the body, head to toe. The voices were familiar, too familiar, and with each word, my body locked up, frozen in place.

Bryant must’ve felt the same, because he stopped too, his body tensing beside me. Then, with a shove, he pushed me aside, standing straighter, trying to mask his injuries. But I could see the strain it took, the way his jaw clenched in pain.

We didn’t have to wait long. The shadows shifted ahead, and out of the darkness came the two guys we’d been dreading. The ones from earlier. Only now, they weren’t alone. A third figure stepped forward, and the sight of him made my blood run cold.

“Long time no see, Bryant!” 

Bryant’s eyes narrowed on him. “Brendan, why are you here?”

Brendan. The name came like a jab straight to my stomach. This was the Brendan Bryant was talking about. But why were they here now? What do they want?

“And is that the other guy you two were talking about? The one who fooled you?”

“Yeah, boss,” One of the lackeys snickered in my direction. “He was on the phone, calling for backup. Thought he could get the jump on us.”

Brendan eyed me. In the dark, his expressions were almost unreadable. “Seems weak to me, Bryant. He isn’t one of your gang members, right?”

“Yeah, boss,” the lackey snickered again. “I could take him on with one finger!”

Bryant took a step forward, trying to shield me. “Brendan, he has nothing to do with us. Let him go first.”

Brendan’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place—amusement, maybe, or annoyance. “Wait, wait. No one leaves this place.” His voice was calm, almost casual, but there was an edge to it that made my skin crawl. “I’ll get to the both of you in a minute, but first…” His gaze shifted to his two lackeys. “Let me clean up some trash.”

Before I could even react, Brendan moved. It was so fast, so fluid, that my eyes couldn’t follow. One moment he was standing there, and the next, his feet had swept through the air, sending his two henchmen crashing to the ground with a force that left them gasping for breath. It happened in an instant, and all I could do was stand there, frozen.

“You two are just as weak and dumb as that other guy,” Brendan said coldly, looking down at them. “Don’t blurt more than you can back up with your punch.”

I couldn’t stop the shudder that passed through me. So he is Brendan... from what Bryant said, he sounded like quite the trouble. But seeing him up close, feeling the weight of it in the air, was something else. I could barely keep my lips from trembling. Any word I tried to utter got stuck in my throat.

“Brendan, what are you doing? What’s gotten into you lately?” Bryant’s voice cut straight through like a knife. Brendan didn’t even flinch. His eyes were cold, almost distant. “What’s gotten into me? What makes you think you can talk to me like that? Don’t think too highly of yourself just because you’re the leader now.”

“What are you even saying? This has nothing to do with that! What’s your plan? What do you want?”

Brendan’s lips curled into a bitter smile. “What I want? Let me state it then: I want to reclaim what the previous leaders couldn’t. I’m gonna take South Gate to the top again.”

“Then you’ll have to wait for another year, Brendan.”

“Another year? Who even made that rule?”

“It was those who came before us. Surely they had a reason.”

“They were just weak,” Brendan snapped. His anger just kept flaring. “They couldn’t even fight. That’s why they made these stupid rules. That son-of-a-bitch who fought you, can you even call him a leader?”

“He has a name, Brendan. Alex Turner. And he was a worthy leader.”

“Can you please stop with your ramble! Worthy this, worthy that! If you can talk so highly, then come fight me!”

“Yeah, come then.” Bryant shifted into a fighting stance, his body tense and ready, but I could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the pain in his every movement. He was in no state to fight, not now. If Brendan landed one of those brutal kicks like before, who knows what would happen. Bryant could be seriously hurt—or worse.

I was sick of it. Sick of the endless cycle of violence, of things never going the way they should. My body moved before my mind could catch up, and I found myself stepping forward, pushing past Bryant to stand between them.

“Bryant, wait…” I heard my own voice, but it sounded distant, like it belonged to someone else. My muscles were tensing with fear, but I couldn’t back down now. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, facing Brendan head-on.

“You need to beat me first... before you get to fight him,” My voice was steady... despite the fear coursing through me.

Brendan looked at me, surprised for a moment, then his expression turned to one of confusion and amusement. “Huh, who’re you?”

“Reol,” I replied, my voice more confident than I felt. “Reol Wright.”

"It's madness, Reol, step aside. You're not even a member of East Gate."

Just like Bryant, every muscle in my body was screaming at me to stop, to back down, but I couldn’t. "It doesn't concern that, Bryant. You should get that!" I forced myself to take the same stance Bryant had just taken, trying to ignore the trembling in my legs. "I'll wear him down enough, so it will be a peice of cake for you." Brendan’s eyes narrowed as he sized me up. I wasn’t a fighter. I knew that, and so did he. But there was no turning back now. I was standing in front of one of the most dangerous people I’d ever met, and I had no idea what I was doing.

"You'll regret it later, kid." Saying that, brendan moved like a shadow, swift and deadly. His leg cut through the air, aiming for a slash from the right. I barely managed to dodge, feeling the wind from the kick brush past my face. But before I could even process what happened, Brendan was already on me, his fist shooting straight for my face.

Everything blurred as Brendan’s fist closed in. I braced myself for the impact, knowing I wouldn’t be fast enough to avoid it. But just as Brendan’s fist was about to make contact, Bryant moved in, his arm sweeping the jab aside, deflecting it with a desperate parry. The force of the strike rattled through Bryant’s body, but he stood firm, shielding me.

“Bryant, y-you don’t have to fi—”

“You stupid, this is my fight. I’m taking over!”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was in no shape to take on Brendan, but my legs refused to move. They'd finally given in... my muscles frozen in place. If Bryant hadn’t been there, I knew I would’ve been knocked out cold.

Bryant squared off with Brendan. Brendan’s expression was calm, almost bored, as he sized Bryant up. Brendan moved first, his leg snapping forward in a low kick aimed at Bryant’s shin. Bryant blocked it with his own leg, but the impact sent a jolt of pain through him, making him grit his teeth. Brendan didn’t give him a moment to recover, spinning on his heel to deliver a powerful roundhouse kick. Bryant barely managed to raise his arm in time, taking the brunt of the blow on his forearm.

The force of the kick sent Bryant stumbling back. Brendan pressed the attack, launching a series of kicks—high, low, from every angle. Bryant blocked and dodged as best he could, but it was clear he was struggling. Each block was weaker than the last, his movements growing slower, more sluggish.

Brendan wasn’t just fast—he was relentless. He kept up the pressure, switching between kicks and punches with brutal efficiency. Bryant managed to parry a few strikes, but each time he did, Brendan was there with another attack, another blow that chipped away at Bryant’s strength.

A sharp kick to the ribs sent Bryant reeling. He tried to counter with a punch, but Brendan easily sidestepped it, his foot coming up in a vicious kick aimed at Bryant’s side. Bryant blocked it with both arms, but the impact sent him crashing to one knee.

Bryant's breathes were now even more ragged now. Brendan was also getting exhausted, but from every angle, he knows he has an upper hand. Bryant swung at Brendan, a desperate right hook, but Brendan caught his arm, twisting it with a cruel smile. Bryant grunted in pain, trying to pull free, but Brendan’s grip was like iron. With a quick twist, Brendan yanked Bryant off balance, sending him stumbling forward. And then, in a move so fast I almost missed it, Brendan faked a left jab, making Bryant flinch.

Before Bryant could react, Brendan’s fist slammed into his stomach this time. The punch was devastating, all the air rushing out of Bryant’s lungs in a single, agonized gasp. He doubled over, clutching his stomach.

For a moment, everything went still. Bryant swayed on his feet, trying to stay upright, but his body betrayed him. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. His fight had finally drained out of him.

“I told you, Bryant,” he said quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I’m taking South Gate to the top. And no one’s going to stop me.”

Bryant’s only response was a low groan, his hand clutching his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut in pain. I wanted to rush to his side, to help him, but I was still frozen in place. One wrong move, and it would be checkmate for me. Brendan stood over Bryant, sounding disappointed, maybe even a bit agonized. "Aren't you feeling well, or have punches gotten weaker? And you call yourself a leader..."

Bryant slowly lifted his head, his eyes meeting Brendan's. "Weak... huh?"

Brendan's sneer deepened. "Couldn't even scratch me... Tell your lackeys later not to even dare show their faces here again. We'll rule from here onward."

He had claimed victory. I thought the fight was over. But just as Brendan turned away, Bryant sprang to life, lunging at him with a sudden burst of energy. His hands gripped Brendan’s shirt as he pulled him down and slammed him into the ground with a headbutt.  "It's because I wasn't putting my all into it," Bryant growled, hovering over Brendan. "What kind of person even hits his friend with all he's got?"

Brendan groaned, struggling to get up. The hit had clearly rattled him. "So, you've still got more," he muttered, pushing himself up on shaky legs.

Bryant took a step back, panting heavily. "No, that was all that's left in me. I'm barely even standing now."

Brendan’s eyes narrowed. "Too sad." He paused for a moment, then sprang to his feet. "Dodge this one, then."

"Brendan... can we please stop with all this crap? I don't want to hurt my friend."

"Are you scared? Put a scratch on me first!"

"Please... just stop..."

Brendan moved in with another kick, his leg arcing through the air. Bryant ducked just in time, avoiding the blow and countering with a swift uppercut that connected with Brendan's chin. Brendan staggered back, rubbing his jaw. He spat blood, then smirked. "So you were bluffing just now, huh? And you're also hitting quite hard, even for a friend."

Bryant’s face remained serious. "I thought it would bring you to your senses..."

"I've heard enough of that. Just come with all you've got!"

"Brendan, why are we even doing this? What's so fun about beating each other to death?"

"Who said I'm doing this for fun?"

Bryant paused, searching Brendan’s face for answers. "Have you forgotten, Brendan, what you said in middle school? That you wanted to change everything so that everyone could have fun! Is this what you wanted!?"

"Don’t scream at me!" Brendan shouted back. "What do you even know, huh? Do you think life is all about having fun? Do you even know what I've gone through to come to this point?"

"Brendan, look. We're both the leaders of East and South Gate... We're here where we wanted to be... So why are we even fighting right now?"

"You don't get it," Brendan hissed, throwing a wild punch that Bryant easily dodged. "You don't get it. For someone who's got everything easy, enjoying every single day with those lackeys... What do you even know about what I've gone through!?"

"But how will I even understand if you don't spell it out to me!?" Bryant shot back.

In a swift motion, Bryant aimed a punch directly at Brendan. Brendan tried to dodge, but he was too slow this time. The punch was on target, and noticing it, Bryant steered the punch away at the last second, deliberately missing. Brendan took the chance, throwing a counter punch. But rather than retreating, Bryant grabbed onto Brendan's hand. "I'm sorry," Bryant said. "I'm really sorry, Brendan. I should’ve stood up for you that day. I know you had it tough."

Brendan responded by shoving Bryant back. "Keep shut!" His eyes were blazing with anger. "Like I said, you don't understand anything!"

Bryant didn’t back down, even as he steadied himself from the push. "Yeah, you're right. I really don't understand anything. But I can tell one thing. You've lost the punch you had before. Remember that time you saved me from those East Gate thugs? Back then, your fists packed more of a punch than they do now, even though you were just in middle school back then."

Brendan’s expression flickered. "What do you mean to say?"

"What I mean is that you've lost the reason for which you used to fight. Your reason to raise your fist. Back then, I was captivated by how much you used to shine. But now, you're nothing like that."

"Keep shut!" Brendan roared, his fist flying toward Bryant again. But this time, Bryant easily parried the blow. His movements had finally turned calm and controlled.

"Try to remember! Why we even aimed for the top... Are you really having fun right now, Brendan?"

"I SAID KEEP SHUT!" Brendan’s voice was desperate now, a mix of rage and something else—something deeper, more painful.

"It's okay," Bryant continued, his tone softening as he took a step closer. "I know you had it rough all this time. And I'm glad you've still kept fighting even after all that."

"Don’t talk! I said stop! STOP!" Brendan’s punches came again, but they were wild, unfocused, lacking the power they once had.

"See, your punches don’t pack anything," Bryant said gently, catching Brendan’s wrist mid-punch. He looked Brendan in the eyes. "Brendan, just look around. Do you even see anyone around you now, Brendon?"

"I don't need anyone around! I'm strong enough to be fine by myself!"

"But this isn't the right way to fight! You'll be left all alone!"

"WHO ARE YOU TO SAY THAT?!"

Bryant's fists loosened, and with another punch, the fire in Brendan's eyes dimmed. Brendan froze, his body trembling. as he slowly sunk to his knees, his hands covering his face. "You were the one who had taught me it. And even to this day, I'm doing it. So cherish those who are around you... your friends, teammates... Isn't that why you've been fighting all along?"