“Nobody Can Beat Me,” the Black Belt Boasted — Until a Single Dad Entered the Ring
Chapter 2
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"Good. Mrs. Gilbert said my diorama was the best, but..." she hesitated, looking down at her sneakers. "Did you sign the slip for the trip?"William gripped the steering wheel; the plastic was sticky with old sweat. "I will tonight, kiddo. We just got to stop at the store first, get some groceries."They pulled into the parking lot of the Southgate Plaza. It was a dying strip mall anchored by a discount grocery store and a liquor store with a flickering neon sign. But today, the lot was packed. Cars were parked haphazardly along the curbs. A massive inflatable black-and-red archway had been erected near the grocery store entrance; beneath it, a raised boxing ring sat directly on the asphalt. Thumping bass rattled the windows of William's truck. A crowd of about 200 people was gathered around the ring, cell phones raised high in the air, recording."What's going on?" Maya asked, pressing her hands against the glass."Looks like a grand opening," William muttered. He squinted through the windshield. A banner strung across the front of a newly renovated storefront read:Apex Combat Academy, Elite Training.William parked the truck as far away from the noise as possible. He just wanted a gallon of whole milk, a dozen eggs, and to go home and lie flat on the floor. He turned off the ignition. The engine shuddered, choked, and finally died with a metallic rattle that made William's stomach drop. He closed his eyes.Please, not today. Just give me one more month."Come on," William said, opening his door. "Let's get this over with."They walked across the heat-baked asphalt. The humidity was oppressive, a thick blanket that smelled of exhaust fumes and cheap vape smoke from the crowd. As they got closer to the grocery store, the path forced them to skirt the edge of the crowd gathered around the ring.In the center of the canvas stood Trent. Trent was 24, built like a Greek statue, and completely hairless from the neck down. He wore custom-fitted combat shorts adorned with the logos of supplement companies; his hair was faded perfectly on the sides, the top a meticulous mess of blond curls. He looked less like a fighter and more like an influencer who occasionally punched things. But the way he moved—light, bouncy, twitchy with kinetic energy—revealed a guy who spent six hours a day in a gym.At Trent's feet was a heavy-set guy in a tank top, gasping for air, holding his ribs. The referee, a guy in a tight black polo shirt, waved his hands. The fight was over.The crowd cheered—a mix of genuine awe and cruel amusement. Trent grabbed a microphone from the MC standing outside the ropes. He wasn't even breathing hard; there wasn't a drop of sweat on his chest."Is that it?" Trent yelled, his voice echoing off the brick facade of the grocery store. "Is that the best this town has? I told you guys, this isn't a game. Apex Combat isn't for weekend warriors." He paced around the ring, playing to the iPhones tracking his every move. "I am a three-time regional kickboxing champion. I hold a black belt under Master Silva. Nobody here can beat me." He pointed a taped, gloved hand at the crowd. "We got ten minutes left on the permit. The bounty is still up: $5,000 to anybody who can step into this ring and survive one three-minute round with me without getting knocked out or tapping. 10 grand if you actually beat me. Cash."