New Story - written exclusively on Steemit - WiP - Bouncer Part 54

I'm still figuring out where I'm going with this. I have the skeleton of a story sketched out in my mind, but 'getting there' is the journey at the moment.

Episodes 1-59
50 51 52 53

Please note: This is the FIRST DRAFT, no editing, written straight onto paper. I don't know how to highlight that any more than it is. I'll NOT be making any alterations to what's already been written. As a good friend and excellent author has said, First draft is a race to get the story down before it decides to stop telling itself to you. Thanks Glenn. @alienbutt

110 pages, 46,500 words so far.

The cover image needs work (thanks everyone for the feedback, please keep commenting) and I'll get it sorted soon. Things are still hectic with family in hospital etc so stories etc have to come second-place in the priorities race.

Images from Google Free to use Search unless otherwise stated

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The ringleader swung again, with a combination of jabs and a hook – which all missed their target. The man had obviously done more than a bit of boxing. He was light on his feet, bouncing on his toes, swaying left and right, waiting and prepared for Joe’s counter-attack. He held his hands up to protect his jaw, his eyes peering over his fists. His arms and elbows protected his ribs and stomach and he watched for an opening to have another go.

He stepped forward, his left hand snaking out for another measuring jab before hefting an uppercut toward Joe’s chin.

That was the plan in his head, but Joe had other plans and he had way more experience. The ringleader’s left hand jabbed forward once, twice and as he twisted his body to land the killer punch with his right hand, Joe’s experience paid off. He saw the opening in his opponent’s defence and he ducked under the punch to land a hefty blow of his own right into the ringleader’s midriff. Joe’s opponent’s right arm went over Joe’s left shoulder as Joe ducked and avoided the punch.

The ringleader was more a lightweight to Joe’s heavyweight and such a fight in professional boxing would never be allowed to take place. Joe’s counter-punch hit his opponent’s solar plexus and the guy involuntarily expelled all the air in his lungs, creasing him up double as the solar plexus cramped-up in an agonising spasm.

Joe stepped back to allow the man to drop to one knee. The thug clutched at his stomach, fighting to get breath into his lungs.

All fighting paused. The thugs watched in horror as their ringleader pitched sideways into the gutter, face turning purple with the effort to breathe. The door team also looked on in macabre curiosity.

Sonja turned to see why everyone had gone quiet and saw the man on the ground in distress. She leaped into action and kneeling on the road next to him, she bent her head to his.

Closing his nose with her fingers, she placed her mouth over his and blew into his mouth. His chest rose and fell but he couldn’t breathe yet. She blew again and again until the crisis with his solar plexus was over and he gasped in great lungsful of air on his own.

He remained on the ground, but a more normal colour started returning to his cheeks and his breathing slowed.

An ambulance arrived and two paramedics got out of the vehicle. Zack approached them and at first, they were wary of him, thinking his door team had been too ‘boisterous’.

“Take a look at him would you please?” Zack said. “I think he had a close-call with the next life.”

The driver of the ambulance looked from the guy on the ground to Zack and then to Joe. “This guy?” he said.

Zack nodded.

“And this guy hit him just once?” the driver said, nodding towards Joe.

Joe nodded.

“Self-defence?” the driver said, bending to the patient.

“Yes, and I’m sure we can get half a dozen or more recordings to show it was,” Zack said.

A chorus of people volunteering their footage were held back by two of the door team. The queue-jumping thugs melted into the background and dispersed before they had to answer any uncomfortable questions.

“Oh, I don’t doubt he was acting in self-defence,” the ambulance driver said. “This is a first for us. We know this guy. He’s usually the cause of us arriving at someone needing hospital treatment. It makes a change for him to be on the ground needing treatment. Come on, soft-lad, you’ll be ok in a few minutes. Let’s get you to hospital to get you checked over.”

The paramedics got the ringleader into the ambulance, closed the doors and drove off. None of his mates were left to ask where he had been taken.

Zack turned to the queue. “There’s a website you can upload your recordings to. Go to The Cobalt website and I’ll make sure you get a free drink next time you come to the club,” he said.

“What about if it’s already uploaded?” a young man said.

“Really? Show me,” Zack said.

A flurry of phones were held up toward him and he grinned.

“OK, you can have a drinks voucher if you have the confirmation screen of the upload to show me.”

The queue to show Zack their confirmation of upload amused the door team. Zack handed out drinks vouchers and directed them forward to re-form the queue.

“Open the doors when you’re ready, Crackers,” he said into the radio. “All clear.”