Avengement of the Orphan

Brown's Last Breath

23rd December 2020

Biff-baff-zoom.. Seems like somebody's training real hard on the punching bag. But the time doesn't feel right. The place was none other than 'Boom Bag Boxer's Association', formerly known as the 'Boxer's Paradise'. Practitioners from all over Vegas visited this place and trained together hand-in-hand with Mr. Christopher Brown, former International Level Heavy-weight Boxing champion. Christopher Brown, in his years of boxing was known as 'The Knockout Machine'.

Even if this is the place for boxers and big guys to train here, it didn't seem like the right time to do so. Mr. Brown, with sleep in his eyes, got up from his bed and walked in the direction of the sound. He checked the clock. It was 3.30am after midnight . Mr. Brown got mad and rushed hurriedly to check out who it was.

It was Christmas eve and the Club was expected to stay deserted, as it stays every Christmas. People forget about their gains and losses and just celebrate with drinks and forget their diet ang training. To be honest, Christmas was the only time when almost all the boxing clubs and gyms in the state felt to be empty. Christmas brought silence to the clubs. 

In such a deserted scenario and quiet night in the club, there was someone who was not at all paying attention to the people neglecting their health. A true fitness freak for real.

The sound increased as Mr. Brown got closer and closer. He opened the door and stepped in. He saw somebody standing in the ring with the burning bulb right above his head. The unknown person noticed Mr. Brown coming in but did not gave a damn about it.

"Who's that kicking the bag at this hour?" Mr. Brown enquired.

The guy then stopped hitting the back and stopped the oscillating bag in position. He stared right at Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown wanted to communicate but the person's face was unable to be seen. Mr. Brown then switched on the lights and saw a tall man standing inside the ring, waiting for him to hop in. 

Mr. Brown observed him from head to toe. The light bulbs above him made his black chrome leather jacket to shine more. He wore a black sweatshirt inside the jacket and also covered his head with the hood. He wore a black mask which made it even more difficult to identify him. His dark black trousers seemed to be made out of super strong and super stretchable fabric as he comfortably throws side-kicks and round-houses at the bag. He was very tall, almost 6'4 but unlike other professional boxers, he wasn't muscular. He was a lean fellow with average-sized wrist and knuckles. 

"Man," Mr. Brown said, "Why are you here? You should've been home by this time."

"And you should've been dead." the man in the jacket replied.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Brown fumbled.

"Christopher Brown," the man said, "I challenge you for a face-off. The winner goes home and the loser goes to the burial ground."

"Well, I don't wanna hurt you kid. Go home and leave me alone." Mr. Brown asked politely.

"Old man, you never had a choice." said the masked man as he rushed towards Mr. Brown and grabbed him by the neck. 

Mr. Brown was in his grasp. He locked his legs in the masked man's limbs and pushed him away. The man stood up again and rushed back in as he saw Mr. Brown standing still on guard. Both of them jumped into the ring and boxed each other.

Right Jab-left hook-dodge-right uppercut-left elbow strike-right cross punch.

Boom.

Mr. Brown fell to the ground. He tried to get up. He looked up at the man. The man was still waiting there, standing still. He gave Mr. Brown a hand to get up. Mr. Brown stared at him but then stood up as he pulled him up. 

"I don't want you to die so easy man. Come on, try again." The masked man said as he tightened his fist again.

Mr. Brown then attempted a furious front kick but the masked man dodged away faster and threw away Mr. Brown to the ground. Mr. Brown got up again giving no time for the masked man to approach him. Mr. Brown tried to choke the masked man as he grabbed his neck and lifted him up in mid air with the wall behind. The masked man tried to loosen the grip but the old Mr. Brown did not let go. The man then curled both of his legs over Mr. Brown's neck and pulled him in. He then pressed Mr. Brown's finger by the sides, making some room for his own palms to crawl in and give him some time to breathe. 73 year old Christopher Brown then struggled to pull him away from the wall and then threw away the lean fighter. The man got up, struggling, breathing hard enough. Mr. Brown looked tired and exhausted. Even though it had been more than 35 years after his last tournament, Mr. Brown gave his best. He almost threw away a 28-30 year old fighter after lifting him up in mid-air.

"Enough of the child's play Brown." The man exclaimed. "I'm done with you. I'm gonna finish this fast."

"Well," Brown replied, "Try your best kid, you're gonna need everything you had."

Saying so, both the fighter rushed towards each other. Punches hit face, kicks damaged the rib cages and both the fighter were still rejecting to give up. The masked man seemed to be a newbie but was very efficient. On the other hand, 72 year old man showed brute strength and experience as he threw every punch at the opponent.  


It had been more than 20 minutes but neither one of the fighters wanted to give up. Mr. Brown seemed tired. His chest was exploding moment after moment. The masked man breathed hard and was tired after such a long fight. He somehow wanted to end this. He pulled out a gun from his back pocket and pointed it straight to Mr. Brown's head. Suddenly, he closed his eyes and seemed like he was trying to recall some bad memories. He quickly opened his eyelids wide and threw away the gun after dis-assembling it. He grabbed Mr. Brown with both of his arms and pulled both of them towards the mirror.

CRASH! 

They crashed down on the mirror and the mirror broke into pieces. Pieces of sharp glass spread everywhere. Mr. Brown absorbed all the impact but now it was unable for him to get back up. 

The masked man rushed towards Mr. Brown with a huge and sharp piece of glass. He pulled Brown's collar and placed the glass on his throat.

"Before you kill me and slice my throat," Mr. Brown said, "I want to know who the hell you are and the reason why you came all the way here and took all the burden to kill me."

"I hope you remember the day when you won your last championship. I was there somewhere in the crowds. I loved you more than my father. But you weren't worthy. You killed my parents. You cold-blooded murderer."

"I want you to know.."

"Shut up!" The masked man interrupted as he sliced away Mr. Brown's throat with the glass.

He walked away, with the glass still in his hands, dripping Brown's blood all over the floor.