Chapter 1: Dav
Whomp!
Dav Eccles shook his head after the blow struck his temple. The world hadn’t turned to stars yet, but another hit like that might just do it. The cheering crowd of friends and enemies around Dav and his opponent roared louder, and Dav shook his head to try and make the world shift back to normal. Somewhere behind him, a point counter dinged, adding to his opponent’s score.
Keeping his fists up, he looked across the floor. His opponent, Mons, was a big fellow but slow. It was a good thing the exo gloves they both wore were set to the highest level! The bands around Mons’ wrists made the air shimmer with a bright gold hue a full two inches away from the skin of his knuckles. They had cushioned the blow to Dav’s head enough that he hadn’t gone down. But even so, Mons was strong enough for the blow to rattle Dav a bit, making him step back and take a breath.
“Advance, Mons!” yelled the school Sportsmaster, yelling loud enough to be heard over the din. There were at least two dozen in the class watching Dav fight, and Mons outclassed him in terms of weight, but definitely not in skill.
Mons smiled. The freckles on his face stood out even redder against his skin, flushed with exertion and excitement at his hit. He stepped forward, fists swinging like weights on a set of ponderous chains.
Dav took another step back, looking carefully at Mons’ chin.
Mons instinctively brought up his hands, his face shifting behind the effect of the exo gloves as they blurred the air in front of him.
And that blurring blocked Mons’ vision, giving Dav the advantage he was looking for.
Dav, fully a head shorter than Mons, used the height to his own advantage. He quick-stepped in, stomping his foot on Mons’ right foot, and then leaning in as the larger boy tried to back away.
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And as Mons backed away, he left a wide stripe of his side open, ripe for the one-two-three! quick punches that Dav landed, followed by a fast knee-jab to Mons’ ribcage.
The point counter behind beeped, dinged and whistled as it noted each of Dav’s hits. The last knee jab had put him over a hundred, causing the counter to blow its whistle and end the fight, flashing his picture on the vid projector above with the word “WINNER!” emblazoned beneath it.
Dav backed away immediately, knowing how Mons was about to react.
“You told me to advance!” he bellowed, turning away from Dav. “I advanced, and I lost!” Dav could practically hear the adrenaline from the match still coursing through the bigger boys’ head and voice as he stomped across the fighting floor towards the sportsmaster.
Sportsmaster Tavin, fully two heads shorter than Mons, held his gaze. “Mons, I said advance. That means you move forward with your eyes open, ready to fight.”
He continued speaking to Mons in the same stern tone as Mons reached him. The large boy looked down at the smaller, spry man who was dressed in the same athletic shorts as the rest of his students. “You fell for the oldest trick in the history of sports, Mons Brakken. Dav misdirected your attention, and then took advantage. I’ve warned you about relying too much on your height and weight. And if you’d been fighting under Imperial rules? With an opponent who wasn’t wearing cushy exo gloves, but just a thin strip of tape over their knuckles?” The Sportsmaster turned to glare at Dav. “Or against an opponent with real skill, and a killer instinct? You’d have gone down faster than a clone grunt against a Sith Lord. “Now, you two: If you’re all done pretending you’re a pair of actual athletes, shower up, back into your uniforms, and get to your next classes. No more fights today, Mons! And that goes for all of you! Remember, you don’t get to come back if you use what I teach you outside of the athletic chamber. But first, you,” he said to Dav, his voice raising a notch as the boys began moving in a reluctant mass to the change room, “I need to talk to you before you leave this room.”
To Be Continued....