prompt: vitali doing some boxing training with vik/jackie? :0
CHARACTERS >> Jackie Welles, Viktor Vektor, Vitali Dobrynin (oc) TOTAL >> 6.2k words WARNINGS >> Chess mention :/, drugs mention, poorly described boxing combinations, sex mention, violence CONTEXT >> 19 year old Vitali is running late for his scheduled weekly boxing training with Jackie and Vik
‘Watch where you’re going, punk!’
Vitali stopped in the middle of his tracks to give right of way on the pedestrian crossing, yelling an insult at the driver and kicking the Caliburn’s rear bumper as it passed by. It was a nightmare trying to cross the street anywhere in town– but the industrial roads of Vista del Rey made for a particularly nasty experience for anyone traveling by foot and he already regretted not taking a cab instead.
He picked up his pace, doing an awkward half-run across the road and jumping onto the sidewalk to avoid a large puddle, hood of his jacket pulled over his head and mask covering the lower half of his face to shield himself from the sickening combination of acid rain and low-hanging smog. It wasn’t unusual for that time of the year; but Vitali’d grown up with slightly better air quality in Wellsprings and Velvet Harbor, and needless to say he needed some time to adjust.
He reached the underpass of the main highway snaking through the subdistrict, the continuous sound of cars passing over up high above his head. The road was broad enough to provide some shelter from the rain; but Vitali kept his hood up anyway as he passed by a group of Valentinos parked up beside Al’s Chops, several of the gang members eyeing him as he beelined for the main entrance.
The shop was old. Decades by then, easily. Yellowed tiled walls and a concrete floor with blinds covering the windows– no fabrics, to keep the smell of raw meat out of them– with a large fridge display separating the waiting area and counter, showcasing all the meat cuts Alvaro had in at the time.
One of the last authentic butchers in town. The entire west coast with that, as far as Vitali was concerned.
He slowly removed the mask and hood from his head, revealing long, uncombed bleached hair and a pale face deprived of sleep. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, light and patchy facial hair covering his chin and jaw and above his upper lip. Definitely not his greatest look; but he hadn’t bothered making himself look presentable before rushing out, since he’d already been an hour late upon setting off.
‘Buen día, en qué le puedo ayudar– Vito?’
The man behind the counter was at least a head taller than Vitali, slender and graceful in build though scrawny in mannerisms and appearance. His voice faltered rather quickly upon spotting the only customer in the shop– and a wide, crooked grin spread across his narrow face instead.
‘Long time no see, guapo.’
Oh, here we go.
‘Hatchet.’ A forced greeting which sounded more like a statement than anything else. Vitali walked a little closer, leaning over the display to rest his arms on the counter and tap a finger on the little bell next to the cash register. ‘Vik and Jackie in?’
He had no interest in small talk. Wrong place, wrong time; he had better things to do than indulge Hatchet after effectively ghosting him for over half a month– in hopes time would sort things out on its own. A trick that never seemed to work, really. He wasn’t sure why he still bothered.
‘Of course, in the back,’ Hatchet replied, catching Vitali’s hand before he could tap the bell again and pushing it flat on the counter, under his own. ‘¿Qué onda? Can’t just show up after three weeks of radio silence and expect me to let you walk.’
Vitali glared at him, dragging his hand out from underneath Hatchet’s while tapping the bell with his other hand instead. ‘What’s it to you?’
A scoff. ‘Really?’
Hatchet crossed his arms in front of his chest, tucking his hands in while leaning over the counter until his face was right up into Vitali’s, voice hushed as to make sure no one else would catch it. ‘You gon’ make me say it?’
He wasn’t the worst. A little boisterous, rough around the edges– Vitali’s usual type, the most common kind of man to be found in his bed. But it didn’t take a genius to know they were wildly incompatible, and besides, Vitali already had another headache to worry about right back at home– if he hadn’t let himself out yet.
‘You’re a paying customer, Hatch,’ Vitali quietly affirmed, repeating a sentence he’d uttered at least a hundred times before at that point. ‘Please don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be.’
The betrayed look on Hatchet’s face already gave him his answer.
‘Wow.’
There it is.
‘Wow.’
‘Hatch–’
‘Seriously?’
Hatchet stepped back, gesturing between himself and Vitali, smiling in disbelief. ‘After all that–? That’s, that’s all I am to you?’
No matter how abundantly clear Vitali would make it each and every time, no matter how often he would refer to them as customers, there was always– always– the occasional asshole who thought himself to be more important than the others, and oh so very special for having had Vitali’s boobs in his mouth. He’d gotten used to it by then– and really, it wasn’t as if any of them could hurt him, emotionally or physically for that matter– but the constant repeating was starting to drive him nuts.
Hatchet threw out another wow and Vitali scoffed in return, straightening his back and shoving balled fists in his pockets. ‘Christ, Hatch– Quit acting like you didn’t know.’
‘We had somethin’ there!’
‘We had sex. Which you paid for.’
Quite a hefty sum of eddies, too, more than the usual gonk. But he decided to leave that out of the equation for now.
Vitali watched with clenched jaw as Hatchet paced back and forth behind the counter, muttering to himself in Spanish just quiet enough for Vitali’s hearing aid to fail picking any of it up. He already regretted not taking the back entrance instead; sure as hell would’ve saved him a whole lot of time that he already didn’t fucking have–
‘Fuck, man, whatever– At least just–’ Hatchet had stopped pacing and leaned back over the counter, pointing at Vitali who instinctively took a step back. ‘At least tell me that I was–’
‘Eladio!’
Immediate silence washed over the shop. An older, balding man walked in through the bead curtain separating the front and back of the shop, dressed in similar attire as his son but wearing a once white apron around his short, stout body. He was in the process of taking off black nitrile gloves, revealing two cybernetic hands, and gestured at Hatchet to move away from the register as he tossed the gloves in what Vitali could only assume was a bin hiding behind the display.
‘Leave the boy alone,’ Alvaro said, waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen behind him. ‘Go– Don’t look at me like that. Go help your sister. Good morning, Vitali.’
The atmosphere in the shop changed immediately– for the better– and Vitali allowed his shoulders to relax as he watched Hatchet pointedly leave, not even bothering to make eye contact anymore. He ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his face, giving the old butcher a quick nod as greeting.
‘How’s business?’
Alvaro pursed his lips and vaguely waved his hand again. ‘Eh, igual que siempre. Though more backyard business with 6th Street and Valentinos runnin’ around. Seen the news?’
‘Yeah, it’s a mess.’ Vitali paused, and couldn’t help but glance behind him through the little window overlooking the Valentinos’ ride. ‘You’ll, uh, manage?’
Kind of a dumb question. Of course Alvaro would; built that shop with his own two hands– ironic as that statement was– and he wouldn’t leave it behind with half the city on fire, or whatever other hypothetical Vitali could think of.
‘Always, kid,’ the old man replied to him, giving him an equally as crooked smile as Hatchet had, and he nodded at the doorway again. ‘Now get. They’re waiting for you.’
Vitali quickly continued his way further into the shop, entering the kitchen through the bead curtain. He greeted the other employees inside, zigzagging around countertops and tables and beelining for the left exit beside the walk-in freezer, avoiding a still sulking Hatchet to the best of his abilities.
He almost felt bad. Almost.
But he stood by what he’d said– Hatchet was nothing more than a paying customer.
One of many.
Vitali pushed through the heavy swinging door with his shoulder, the tiled walls instantly replaced by bricks and concrete in the poorly lit garage of the shop. He bumped fists with the mechanics, in the process of taking apart two rather beaten up Colbys– and he briefly wandered into the scrapyard to wave at Dozer, who was busy taking inventory of a new Badlands haul.
Al’s Chops was always a lively place, even if it didn’t seem like it at first glance; and with its business located nice and far away from the prying eyes of the NCPD it was the perfect shop for gangs to drop off their unwanted rides.
And the meat Alvaro sold was mighty fine, too.
Vitali turned right into a short hallway curving around Al’s office and the stairs leading up into his house, and entered what was partially being used as a large storage space, and partially as– surprisingly so, though not to him– a boxing ring. Large crates and boxes stood shoved out of the way near the back door of an equally as poorly lit room; the only illumination came from a single light bulb and whatever natural light could reach through the small windows at the top of the exterior walls.
‘Ah, there you are, mano! Was startin’ to wonder if you’d show.’
Jackie Welles was dressed in a distractingly tight tank top and boxing shorts, curls tied up in a bun to keep them out of his face and some fresh cybernetic lining decorating his cheekbones and jaw. He grinned wide and waved at Vitali with a gloved hand, following it up with a playful double jab and cross in his direction.
In the corner of the ring stood Viktor Vektor, in his usual attire of jeans and a short sleeved button-up. Vitali had no idea how that was comfortable in the suffocating, clammy warmth of the room; he could already feel his own forehead getting sweaty, and he had only just walked in.
‘Got held up, sorry,’ he quickly said, taking off his jacket and zipper hoodie and tossing them aside– then after short hesitation also took off his t-shirt, leaving him in his sports bra and basketball shorts reaching just above his knees.
‘Nicky got his house key back, then, eh?’ Jackie chuckled, walking over to hold out his arm for Vitali to grab onto while pulling himself up in the ring.
Vitali was still unsure how his friend always seemed to know exactly what was going on in his life. He’d never been a talkative type– sure as hell knew better than to tell Jackie Welles of all people about any of his personal endeavors– yet he still knew of all of Vitali’s college acquaintances, the parties he visited, and also exactly what kind of drugs he’d been doing the night before.
Vitali scoffed, stepping onto the platform and immediately receiving a push from Jackie’s elbow that if he hadn’t been paying attention could’ve easily knocked him over back into the ropes instead.
‘None of your fucking business, Jack.’
Another hearty chuckle. ‘If you want your “yes” to be less obvious, I recommend saying no next time.’
Vitali wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.
His gaze was drawn to what he assumed to be a training robot, idling in one of the empty corners of the ring. Judging by its right lower arm being bent at a significant unnatural angle, it had already been used as punching bag before his arrival.
‘Started without me?’ he asked, gesturing at the robot.
‘If you’d ever bother to show up on time you’d be surprised of the things we usually get up to without you.’
Viktor finally moved out of his corner, smiling upon noticing Vitali’s slightly offended expression and he came to a stop next to him, hands on his hips as he nodded at the robot. ‘Like it?’
Vitali grimaced and spat on the floor of the ring. ‘That a trick question?’
‘Yeah. Don’t like it much either. Al was kind enough to keep ‘er from this Militech stash some Valentinos brought in last week, let me poke around in the programming. Think I’ll let him know to sell her, I’m sure there’s some gym fanatic out there who could use the, uh–’ Viktor paused, and gestured vaguely. ‘– Artificial muscle.’
Vitali had never understood the appeal of a robotic opponent– in any context, for that matter. He still vividly remembered observing his father’s chess matches against pre-programmed holographic pieces; nothing there to analyze but the game itself, no human opponent to watch take calculated risks and decisions, no unique style or patterns to pick up on and strategize against.
Where’s the fun in playing against a couple lines of code, designed specifically to find the most effective way to prevent its opponent from winning?
‘Well,’ Jackie said, giving Vitali a smack on the back of his shoulder with a no longer gloved hand, ‘you two catch up, I’m grabbin’ a drink. Sweating like a netrunner trespassing in NetWatch servers.’
‘Don’t get lost,’ Vitali replied, and watched as Jackie left the room with a little wave thrown in their direction.
The conversation instantly died down into comfortable silence and Viktor redirected his attention to the training robot, opening a panel in its back to mess with some of the wiring until it powered itself off. Vitali watched him work in silence for a bit, tying his hair up into a high ponytail to get it out of his face for the training.
He was still getting used to it. The rhythm, the routine. Every Sunday morning– though at this point afternoon– sparring with Vik and Jackie, learning how to box like one of the pros. An urgent suggestion from the latter, since Vitali had continued his infamous streak of picking fights at school; but these college bullies had quite the extra muscle on them in comparison to the delicate plumes of wheat he’d had to fend off in high school, and he’d begun to struggle finding himself on the winning end of it.
‘Hey, Vik– What’s up with this place anyway?’ Vitali ended up asking, glancing over his shoulder– noticing a second pair of boxing gloves in the corner of the ring, and he quickly walked over to put them on. ‘I mean– I don’t mind coming here, but why here? Special memories?’
‘Alvaro and I go way, way back,’ Viktor replied with a small smile, without looking up from his work. Vitali effortlessly recognized the look on his face and he lowered the glove in his hands, pausing to raise his eyebrows and give the old ripperdoc a knowing look.
‘Oh?’ No response. ‘Really now?’
Viktor paused, gaze catching Vitali’s, and he scoffed.
‘Don’t push it, V.’
Knew it.
‘Didn’t say anything.’ Vitali chuckled and put on his gloves, ignoring the tch coming from Viktor’s direction. He really had no right to speak, anyway– with the shambles of his own love life in the picture it was none of his business to try and dig into that of Vik’s.
‘Next time give me a ride at least– one more gopnik out in the street stare at me like I’m his next prey I’m buying a gun.’
Viktor visibly paused for a moment, eyes darting back in Vitali’s direction as he watched him finish up. He walked closer and reached out to grab Vitali’s wrists to help pull him back up on his feet once the gloves were on, with enough force that it would’ve sent Vitali flying had he not been prepared for it.
‘Surprised you haven’t already,’ he said, readjusting one of the wraps of Vitali’s glove around his wrist to put it on straight. He noticed Vitali’s caught off-guard stare, and merely shrugged. ‘Life in Night City ain’t sunshine, kid. Don’t think I gotta tell you that.’
It wouldn’t be the first time Viktor had offered Vitali some well-meaning advice. Ever since Jackie had introduced the two to each other he’d voiced his concern about Vitali’s substance abuse– which, Vitali supposed, made sense, and although he definitely let Vik’s advice enter one ear and immediately fly out of the other he appreciated the gesture– and since he had caught wind of Vitali’s latest side gig he had not stopped bothering him about at the very least getting regularly tested for STIs.
Buying a gun was kind of a different league of advice, though.
‘You’re encouraging me to buy a firearm?’ Vitali asked, though the question was phrased more like a statement; doubtful one at that, as if he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d heard the man right. ‘You? Of all people?’
‘What, I look like your dad to you?’ Viktor paused, licking his lips as he took his sunglasses off to be able to look Vitali in the eyes– something he rarely did, and Vitali instinctively straightened his back.
‘Look, Vitali–’ Oh, here it comes– ‘I’ve seen the state of that apartment you call your home. Your landlord sure as hell ain’t gonna protect you when some leadhead waltzes in in the middle of the night and decides the place is theirs now.’
He wasn’t necessarily wrong. In fact, if Vitali would open up more often about what he got himself into those days then Viktor would know the exact hypothetical he’d sketched out had already happened twice that month– and only one of those occasions had been Vitali’s fault.
But despite that, he still wasn’t sure why Viktor even bothered. Vitali wasn’t asking for protection– sure as hell didn’t need a fucking stand-in family member, now that his own blood had decided to ghost him after he’d left home– and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t actively trying to make some sort of a stubborn point by doing the exact opposite what Viktor kept asking of him, to try and get him off his back.
Either the hint completely went over Viktor’s head, or he was vehemently ignoring it.
Vitali once again wisely kept his mouth shut, receiving an encouraging– consoling?– pat on the shoulder from Viktor which he playfully returned with a soft gloved punch to the upper arm. The door behind them opened again, and Jackie finally returned.
‘Took you long enough,’ Vitali called, rolling back his shoulders to get himself warmed up and ready. ‘Told you not to get lost.’
‘Went for a piss while I was at it,’ Jackie apologetically replied.
Classic Jackie.
A pause, followed by a gleeful smile in Vitali’s direction.
‘Ready, V?’
Nearly three hours later than originally planned, the training finally began. Vitali versus Jackie, just their boxing gloves, no special protection. Definitely not the safest way to do it, but they weren’t allowed to aim for the head anyway– and aside from the occasional accidentally aimed too high right hook, that rule had stuck well so far.
They built it up simple, as always; warming up with some basic combinations, which Vitali was guided through by Viktor, beating down on Jackie’s boxing pads until he’d gotten in the rhythm. He hadn’t gotten very far in terms of technique; body moving faster than his brain, to the point he had to do the same few movements over and over and over again until his muscle memory got the upper hand of his impulses.
Though no matter how well Vitali executed his jabs, hooks, and uppercuts, none of it seemed to faze Jackie much. It often felt like repeatedly punching down against a brick wall– an unrewarding situation even with Vitali getting his technique perfectly right, eventually– and even when he started throwing in more of his weight Jackie still wouldn’t budge.
Vitali’s heart was beating a million miles an hour and he began seeing red, frustration pounding against the inside of his ribcage until he decided he’d had enough and sharply turned around, gearing up for a roundhouse kick directly in the middle of Jackie’s boxing pad. The sheer force and the surprise element of the move finally caused him to bounce back a few steps, and Vitali let out a triumphant huff.
But when he turned to look at Viktor, he immediately knew the move was not well received.
‘Last time I checked we don’t do kickboxing here, kid,’ he calmly stated, arms still crossed in front of his chest. The expression on his face was next to unreadable. As usual. ‘Got it out of your system?’
‘Fights out there never go like this,’ Vitali spat in defense, walking backwards and gesturing at Jackie’s boxing pads. ‘No one in the real world is gonna stick to boxing rules when all they want to do is rip your throat out.’
‘They won’t, no.’ Viktor’s voice was still agonizingly calm, as if he was doing it on purpose just to rile Vitali up more. ‘But a fight in the real world’s gonna be over real fuckin’ quick if you don’t have any fundamentals to base your own style on. Your opponent will, nine out of ten times.’
Vitali was barely listening.
Every week went exactly like this, and it was starting to piss him off; he did everything right, every single time– okay, with the necessary amount of repetition– yet none of it ever seemed to bother Jackie even a little bit, and he knew it was gonna make him look like an idiot if he ever were to try any of it out in practice.
He realized a little late that he had been quietly staring Viktor down that whole time, chest heaving from the combination of physical exertion and built up resentment over time. It caused the ripperdoc to finally move, briefly leaving the ring to grab Jackie’s gloves again which he had dropped on a side table.
‘Jack,’ he said, tossing the pair back in the ring, ‘put these on. V, take a breath. I’ll show you what I mean, okay?’
Vitali watched in silence as Jackie changed gear, the beating of his own heart thrumming heavily in his head. He hadn’t calmed down– and if anything, Viktor telling him to take a breath had just made him want to break a piece of furniture even more– and part of him wished he had just decided to roll over and go back to sleep instead of getting up to rush to another subdistrict for this on a fucking Sunday of all days.
They readied themselves in the center of the ring again, continuing as before; Viktor calling out combinations and Vitali following along until the instructions stopped and he could take over himself.
Jab, cross, jab. Jab, cross, left hook. Jab, right hook.
He exhaled sharply, dodging an incoming attack and resetting his stance to take a moment to gather himself. He already started seeing red again– doing everything just right, just fucking right, and yet here he was taking forever to get anywhere and despite the amount of time it took, literally nothing happened at the same fucking time.
He lunged forward and tried executing another combo– jab, cross, left hook, again– but Jackie parried it with ease and the force of it nearly knocked Vitali off his feet.
‘Patience, V,’ Viktor said, allowing Vitali to curse in Russian a couple of times before regaining himself. ‘Don’t let adrenaline get the best of you.’
He was trying. Patience had never been Vitali’s strongest suit, but he knew he had to work on it; instead of arguing with his teacher– just this once, since he’d already stared him down enough at that point– he simply steadied himself on his feet again, and gave Jackie a quick nod.
‘Again.’
Cross, left hook, cross. Jab, cross, uppercut. Jab, cross, lead hook, cross.
Vitali kept his composure, now– doing what he knew worked best, giving Jackie opportunities to strike back too to practice his blocks and parries. But the longer they spent throwing punches back and forth, the more his exasperation returned; and when Jackie almost knocked him off his feet again, he swung wide with a frustrated yell and proceeded to fall forward when Jackie dodged the whole punch by merely pulling his torso away.
‘Swinging wide hopin’ to hit literally anything in the process has never helped anyone,’ Viktor calmly remarked.
‘Again.’
It wasn’t hard to tell what point Vik was trying to make. Vitali was impatient, sure, but not stupid; Jackie continued using the techniques he’d been taught and it gave him the upper hand in combat, even with Vitali trying to think out of the box in hopes to gain any sort of advantage.
Double jab, cross.
Come on.
Jab, right uppercut, left hook.
He was starting to get tired, now; the muscles in his arms and calves burned as he and Jackie danced around each other, the latter now receiving less opportunities to strike back as Vitali picked up the pace.
Another double jab, cross. Jab, right hook– fucking screw it.
Vitali scoffed and landed a jab then followed it up with a feint jab and a lead hook, swiftly spinning to follow it up with an unexpected kick which made Jackie step aside– Vitali used the momentum to step forward and swing around, elbowing Jackie hoping to knock him off balance, but Jackie moved all his weight forward and effectively pushed Vitali to the floor without even having to use his arms.
‘Motherfucker–!’
Vitali winced as he tried pushing himself back up as fast as he could, ignoring the burning sensation in his back and shoulders and angrily readying himself for another round as if nothing had happened.
‘Alright, alright–’ Viktor said in soothing manner, and he reached out as if to try and stop him– but Vitali immediately shook him off and turned back to Jackie, who now also took a defensive step back with his hands up to signal a break.
‘V!’
Vitali’s attempt to walk forward was immediately stopped by Viktor, who grabbed his shoulders and turned him around– and for a split second, just a moment, Vitali tensed up, instinctively readying his arms and bracing for not entirely sure what– and Viktor noticed, closing his mouth and loosening his grip on Vitali’s shoulders in response.
The sudden tension in the room felt awful. Vitali exhaled sharply, clarity washing over him and a sharp pain in his chest once again made him wince. He focused his attention on Viktor’s thumb rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder and tried to match up his breathing to it, until he could feel his heartbeat settle down.
‘Look,’ Viktor quietly continued, ‘we know you can throw a punch, alright? A damn good one. I promise. You wanna play dirty– good. No one dumb enough to start a fight with you will be wantin’ to play fair either. You’re not the tallest, don’t have the strongest build. But you’re fast, and you’re agile. And you know how to use this to your advantage.’
‘And none of it is good enough,’ Vitali bluntly responded. Apparently.
It felt bad, saying it. Like admitting defeat.
‘What is your weakness, V?’ Viktor asked, ignoring Vitali’s self-pity and circling around him, walking over towards Jackie instead. ‘What’s the one thing that’s been keeping you from getting the upper hand here today?’
Vitali shrugged, tossing up a hand and vaguely gesturing with it. ‘Dunno. Indulge me. I’m too trigger happy? Anger issues clouding my better judgment?’
‘Don’t let this get personal.’
Viktor suddenly turned around to Jackie and went for a sharp cross, left hook, cross– Vitali braced himself again, but Jackie was quick and positioned himself to– albeit a little awkwardly– successfully block each and every one of Viktor’s incoming attacks.
‘You started with a lucky kick,’ Viktor called, taking a few steps back and gesturing for Jackie to follow along, centering the two of them in the ring. ‘A fine kick, too. Pushed ol’ Jack here back with it. Didn’t knock him off balance, though.’
‘You don’t have to rub it in,’ Vitali coldly replied as he watched Viktor go for another quick double jab and cross, noticing Jackie’s slightly more tense composure now that he had a different– and arguably much more experienced– opponent in front of him.
‘I’m not.’ Viktor blocked Jackie’s jab and dodged his hook. ‘I’m trying to make a point.’
‘I parried you, earlier,’ Jackie said, rolling back his shoulders as he steadied himself. ‘You lunged at me. Got out of your position.’
‘And then you proceeded to swing wide, losin’ your own center of gravity.’ Viktor allowed Jackie to land a jab and cross on him, but quickly followed it up with a jab and a well-aimed right hook himself. He paused, and turned to look at Vitali. ‘And then a dare I say creative combination of a kick and a sneaky little elbow between the ribs, and yet you still got knocked off your feet. How’s that?’
‘I don’t know!’
It was more of a sneer than an answer at this point, but Vitali had no more patience left to give. Yet even before the words had fully left his mouth, Viktor stepped towards him and threw a double jab in his direction– and Vitali scrambled to try and block, yet instead managed to dodge by not so gracefully stumbling over his own feet and falling backwards into the ropes of the ring.
Oh.
Viktor pointed at Vitali’s feet. ‘Footing’s miles off, kid.’
I’m going to kill myself.
Vitali’s ears burned bright red, chest tightening from embarrassment as he allowed Viktor to pull him back up straight. All his earlier frustration had been knocked clean out of his body– leaving behind nothing more than a deep pit of shame in his stomach.
‘I can tell you’re used to dealing a single hard blow and leaving it at that,’ Viktor said, holding his hand on Vitali’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Probably a good thing. Would’a been a real pain in the ass for your teachers otherwise. But when it comes down to protecting yourself, what you’ll want is confidence, not arrogance.’
‘I’m not arrogant,’ Vitali immediately snapped.
‘You sure as hell fight like it, though.’
Short-tempered? Sure. A sore loser? Absolutely. But arrogant?
Vitali mentally went over every move he had just made, jaw clenched painfully tight trying to think of anything that would fit that description. In any other situation he would’ve just walked away, or gotten angry– but he had gotten far past that point, and now he just wanted to fucking understand.
‘You know when you win a fight, V?’ Jackie asked, grinning wide and placing his still gloved hands on his hips. ‘At the end of a fight. Not at any point before that.’
‘I know that,’ Vitali interrupted him, shooting him an irritated glare. ‘But sometimes you can tell when your opponent is getting tired or distracted. I can tell when a hard strike that might not necessarily follow your stupid boxing rules is going to do the trick.’
He was good at analyzing people. Picked up on body language fairly quick, and Vitali felt it had always given him a step ahead in combat. He took advantage of his opponents’ slip-ups and attacked when they were vulnerable; which is why a single strike had generally speaking always been enough for him to get the point across.
‘You play chess, Vitali?’ Viktor suddenly asked.
Vitali scoffed angrily. ‘Don’t you fucking start with me.’
‘Check does not automatically mean checkmate, right?’ Viktor paused, expectantly looking in Vitali’s direction, but he didn’t get any sort of reaction out of him. ‘Sure, a hard strike might knock someone down temporarily, and in the right situation it might give you a window to run. But it doesn’t immediately mean you’ve won.’
Point made, point taken.
‘So you say I’m arrogant because I fight to win.’
‘I say you fight with arrogance because you expect to know when you’re gonna win.’ Viktor paused, and gestured around the ring. ‘Look what happened here today, Vitali– you keep losing your footing tryin’ to land the finishing blow and none of them got you anywhere.’
Vitali supposed Viktor was right. Perhaps it had felt right in the moment, but looking back at his moves now it looked more desperate than anything else; thinking that maybe if he’d throw everything he had into it it’d make a difference, and then eating shit the second it wasn’t enough.
‘Maybe we should leave it for today.’
The words had left Vitali’s lips before he could stop himself, a newfound control to his voice he hadn’t even been aware he was capable of. Jackie shrugged, visibly not all too bothered by the idea either way– but Viktor merely laughed in response and he immediately shook his head.
‘You, giving up? Absolutely not, kid. Show me what you got. One last time.’
Jab, cross, jab.
Jab, cross, left hook.
Cross, left hook, cross.
His muscles ached so bad.
Vitali could feel the adrenaline turning into frustration again, the longer it went on. He waited it out, dodged, blocked– let Jackie land a few hits, too focused on keeping his balance to remember to pull his forearms up in time.
He saw a window of opportunity when Jackie pulled back after a missed hook, and stepped forward for a double jab against the ribs followed by a mean cross to try and knock Jackie off balance– but it wasn’t good enough, and Vitali realized too late he had stepped forward entirely too far again.
But instead of giving Jackie an opportunity to respond, he used the momentum from his lunge to take another step forward and shoulder rolled out of the way on Jackie’s right, repositioning himself behind him instead– and rather than waiting for his opponent to turn around to continue the fight Vitali pushed his foot into the back of Jackie’s left kneecap to make him sink through his knees– quickly catching himself and regaining his balance on Jackie’s left to stay out of his reach– and then swung around to elbow Jackie in the ribs which successfully knocked him down on the floor.
Finally.
‘Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!’ Jackie roared, the sudden noise startling Vitali a little to the point he bounced back on his feet and readied his arms again. He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading on his face when Jackie jumped back up on his feet and ran over, wrapping both arms around Vitali and lifting him from the floor.
‘Footwork, mano!’ he exclaimed, setting Vitali back down and playfully punching his shoulder a little harder than he’d probably meant for. ‘Look at you– dancin’ around me like a fucking matador!’
‘Well done, kid.’
Viktor was smiling, walking over to give Vitali a congratulating pat on the back– yet something still felt off. Vitali couldn’t say he was able to read it off the ripperdoc’s face, or tell from his demeanor, but he knew he still hadn’t done exactly what Vik had said and an all too familiar knot of anxiety tightened in his chest.
‘I know I still lunged forward,’ he reflexively said in response, ‘and I know you said to not do it. I’ll work on that, really, I just–
‘Hey, hey–’ Viktor raised his hands a little, getting Vitali to stop talking. ‘I didn’t say anything, did I? You caught yourself, corrected the slip-up by using it in your sequence. You did good.’
Oh.
Viktor and Jackie continued talking, but Vitali was no longer listening as his mind wandered off elsewhere. It only now hit him just how tired he felt all over– he was bruised and sore and his muscles ached, his back too, and he noticed he had definitely been clenching his jaw entirely too much for probably the full duration of the training.
He slowly exhaled, allowing the tension to wash off his shoulders, and looked down at the boxing gloves on his hands. He knew he still had a long way to go– and needed to learn to redirect his energy to actually get rid of some frustration, instead of letting the sparring make him even angrier than before– but it was nice to see some progress, as little as it was. At least he knew what to work on now.
‘Vitali?’
He quickly looked up, a little startled by the sudden calling of his name.
‘Wanna call it a day and go grab some food?’ Jackie repeated himself, already in the process of taking off his gloves. ‘I could eat a horse right now.’
‘When not?’ Vitali playfully replied, grinning and protectively lifting his forearms when Jackie reached out to slap him with one of the gloves. ‘Sounds good. Nick’s impromptu scrambled eggs breakfast wasn’t great.’
‘What did I say, mano? Right all a-fucking-long.’
‘Shut up, Jack.’