Must End

The Champ swallows hard, pushes it all back. This isn't a time for sad memories of dead daughters, dead wives. He launches a vicious jab at the other guy's face. This is a time for vicious jabs. He didn't come all this way to lose.

He lands a solid body blow, feels something break under the weight of his punch. He can only hope it's a rib. Two to the jaw, a second fierce shot to the stomach. He stumbles back, but the other man oversteps and the Champ sees it. He steps in, sinks the uppercut underneath the man's jaw and lifts him off the ground.

The ref starts counting. _Ten_ Each bead of sweat feels like a tear he won't cry. _Nine_ For his daughter. _Eight_ He should've slowed down. _Seven_ He only meant to have one beer. _Six_ For his wife. _Five_ He should've payed attention. _Four_ He was so sorry. _Three_ He should've seen the signs. _Two_ He closes his eyes. This is all he has left. _One_ The man remains on the mat. No one stands. He's The Champ again...