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Câu chuyện MidReal
Fists of Redemption
Bối cảnh:Sargent Rogue 32 year veteran of the ring now retired
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Sargent Rogue
retired boxer, friends with other boxers, rugged with a weathered face, determined and haunted.
Maria Rodriguez
Sargent's love interest and a local nurse, friends with Sargent and other boxers, petite with dark hair and warm eyes, caring and resilient.
Tommy "The Bull" Jackson
fellow retired boxer and Sargent's best friend from the ring days.
The last round.
All boxers have one.
Some never throw it.
Others, like my friend Tommy "The Bull" Jackson, fire it early and wonder what happened to the rest of their life.
I'm somewhere in between.
I felt it coming on a few years ago, when I could only get away with fighting scrubs and has-beens.
My hands are huge, but not big enough to grab the glory of my youth and hold onto it forever.
I've been punched in the face a lot, but I'm not stupid.
I know when it's time to hang up my gloves and get on with the next phase of my life.
That's what I've done.
For better or worse, I'm retired from the sport that made me a legend, a hero to some, a zero to others.
I sat in a dimly lit, smoky bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks.
The ice clinked against the glass as I swirled it absentmindedly.
Retirement was supposed to be peaceful, but my mind was anything but.
The highs and lows of my career played like an old film reel in my head.
The roar of the crowd, the sting of sweat in my eyes, the bone-crushing impact of a well-placed punch.
I remembered the nights when I was invincible, and the mornings when I could barely get out of bed.
As I took another sip, the door creaked open.
Maria Rodriguez walked in, her presence like a breath of fresh air in this stale place.
She was the local nurse, always with a kind word and a gentle touch.
She took a seat at the end of the bar, her eyes scanning the room before settling on me.
I gave her a nod.
She smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes.
Something was weighing on her too.
Before I could ponder it further, Tommy "The Bull" Jackson slid onto the stool next to me.
"Rogue, you old dog!" he bellowed, slapping me on the back.
His laughter filled the room, but I could see the sadness lurking behind his eyes.
"Tommy," I said, offering him a weak smile. "How's life treating you?"
He ordered a beer and leaned in closer. "You know how it is. One day you're on top of the world, the next you're just another washed-up fighter."
We both laughed, but it was hollow.
We reminisced about our time in the ring, trading stories of glory and defeat.
"Remember that fight in '92?" Tommy asked. "The one where you knocked out Big Joe in the third round?"
I nodded. "Yeah, I remember. My knuckles still ache from that one."
Tommy chuckled. "Those were the days."
But as we talked, I couldn't shake the memories that haunted me.
The fights I'd lost, the friends I'd buried.
The nights spent staring at the ceiling, wondering if I'd made the right choices.
Tommy must have sensed my mood shift because he clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, don't dwell on it too much. We had our time in the sun."
I sighed. "Yeah, but what now? What's left for us?"
Tommy's face grew serious. "There's always something left to fight for."
Just then, a commotion erupted at the other end of the bar.
A group of rowdy men had surrounded Maria, their voices growing louder and more aggressive.
I saw fear flash across her face.
Without thinking, I stood up and made my way over to them.
"Hey," I called out. "Leave her alone."
One of the men turned to face me, his eyes narrowing. "Mind your own business, old man."
I felt a surge of anger. "She is my business."
Tommy was right behind me, his presence a comforting weight at my back.
The man sneered. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Before I could answer, he lunged at me.
Instinct took over.
My fist connected with his jaw with a satisfying crunch.
He staggered back, clutching his face.
His friends moved to join him, but Tommy stepped forward. "Anyone else want a piece?"
They hesitated, glancing between us and their fallen comrade.
Maria slipped away from them and stood beside me. "Thank you," she whispered.
But it wasn't over yet.
The man I'd punched was getting back up, rage burning in his eyes.