Day after day… the gym became Mikey's battlefield.
[Scene: Early Morning]The sound of gloves slamming against the heavy bag echoed through the empty gym. Mikey's arms shook, sweat dripping from his chin, his knuckles raw even under wraps.
Marcus stood over him, barking like a drill sergeant.
"Keep your guard up! What are you protecting, air?!"
Mikey gritted his teeth, pulling his hands back into position. His forearms burned, but he refused to drop them.
[Scene: Conditioning]Push-ups. Sit-ups. Running laps until his lungs felt like fire.
Marcus threw a medicine ball onto Mikey's stomach as he struggled through sit-ups.
"Again!" Thud.
"Again!" Thud.
"Life's gonna hit harder than this, kid—get used to it!"
Mikey's screams filled the gym, but each time he got back up.
[Scene: Sparring]Marcus tossed Mikey into the ring with older fighters.
"Don't hold back on him. If he wants to fight, make him prove it."
The first punch sent Mikey to the canvas. His vision swirled.
"Get up!" Marcus shouted from outside the ropes.
Mikey spat blood onto the mat, pushing himself up. His legs trembled, but his fists rose again.
He took hit after hit, yet little by little, he learned to block, to dodge, to strike back.
[Scene: The Breakthrough]Weeks later. Midnight. Everyone else gone.
Mikey stood alone in front of the bag, his shirt soaked with sweat. His fists were blistered, but his eyes burned with determination.
He unleashed a flurry of punches—BAM! BAM! BAM!—each one sharper, faster, stronger. The bag swung wildly, chains rattling overhead.
His chest heaved, but for the first time, he smiled.
I'm not the same anymore… I won't be their victim again.
From the shadows, Marcus watched silently, arms crossed. A small grin tugged at his lips.
"Good… That's my nephew."
Mikey collapsed onto the floor, staring up at the rafters. His body was broken, but his spirit… reborn.
The fire in me… it's only getting stronger.