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
âWatch where youâre going, punk!â
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 Caliburnâs rear bumper as it passed by. It was a nightmare trying to cross the street anywhere in townâ 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 wasnât unusual for that time of the year; but Vitaliâd 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 Alâs 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 windowsâ no fabrics, to keep the smell of raw meat out of themâ 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 hadnât 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 hadnât bothered making himself look presentable before rushing out, since heâd already been an hour late upon setting off.
âBuen dĂa, en quĂ© le puedo ayudarâ Vito?â
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 shopâ and a wide, crooked grin spread across his narrow face instead.
âLong time no see, guapo.â
Oh, here we go.
âHatchet.â 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. âVik and Jackie in?â
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 monthâ in hopes time would sort things out on its own. A trick that never seemed to work, really. He wasnât sure why he still bothered.
âOf course, in the back,â Hatchet replied, catching Vitaliâs hand before he could tap the bell again and pushing it flat on the counter, under his own. âÂżQuĂ© onda? Canât just show up after three weeks of radio silence and expect me to let you walk.â
Vitali glared at him, dragging his hand out from underneath Hatchetâs while tapping the bell with his other hand instead. âWhatâs it to you?â
A scoff. âReally?â
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 Vitaliâs, voice hushed as to make sure no one else would catch it. âYou gonâ make me say it?â
He wasnât the worst. A little boisterous, rough around the edgesâ Vitaliâs usual type, the most common kind of man to be found in his bed. But it didnât take a genius to know they were wildly incompatible, and besides, Vitali already had another headache to worry about right back at homeâ if he hadnât let himself out yet.
âYouâre a paying customer, Hatch,â Vitali quietly affirmed, repeating a sentence heâd uttered at least a hundred times before at that point. âPlease donât make this any more difficult than it has to be.â
The betrayed look on Hatchetâs face already gave him his answer.
âWow.â
There it is.
âWow.â
âHatchââ
âSeriously?â
Hatchet stepped back, gesturing between himself and Vitali, smiling in disbelief. âAfter all thatâ? Thatâs, thatâs all I am to you?â
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 alwaysâ alwaysâ the occasional asshole who thought himself to be more important than the others, and oh so very special for having had Vitaliâs boobs in his mouth. Heâd gotten used to it by thenâ and really, it wasnât as if any of them could hurt him, emotionally or physically for that matterâ 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. âChrist, Hatchâ Quit acting like you didnât know.â
âWe had somethinâ there!â
âWe had sex. Which you paid for.â
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 Vitaliâs hearing aid to fail picking any of it up. He already regretted not taking the back entrance instead; sure as hell wouldâve saved him a whole lot of time that he already didnât fucking haveâ
âFuck, man, whateverâ At least justââ Hatchet had stopped pacing and leaned back over the counter, pointing at Vitali who instinctively took a step back. âAt least tell me that I wasââ
âEladio!â
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.
âLeave the boy alone,â Alvaro said, waving his hand in the direction of the kitchen behind him. âGoâ Donât look at me like that. Go help your sister. Good morning, Vitali.â
The atmosphere in the shop changed immediatelyâ for the betterâ 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.
âHowâs business?â
Alvaro pursed his lips and vaguely waved his hand again. âEh, igual que siempre. Though more backyard business with 6th Street and Valentinos runninâ around. Seen the news?â
âYeah, itâs a mess.â Vitali paused, and couldnât help but glance behind him through the little window overlooking the Valentinosâ ride. âYouâll, uh, manage?â
Kind of a dumb question. Of course Alvaro would; built that shop with his own two handsâ ironic as that statement wasâ and he wouldnât leave it behind with half the city on fire, or whatever other hypothetical Vitali could think of.
âAlways, kid,â the old man replied to him, giving him an equally as crooked smile as Hatchet had, and he nodded at the doorway again. âNow get. Theyâre waiting for you.â
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 heâd saidâ 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 Colbysâ and he briefly wandered into the scrapyard to wave at Dozer, who was busy taking inventory of a new Badlands haul.
Alâs Chops was always a lively place, even if it didnât 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 Alâs office and the stairs leading up into his house, and entered what was partially being used as a large storage space, and partially asâ surprisingly so, though not to himâ 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.
âAh, there you are, mano! Was startinâ to wonder if youâd show.â
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.
âGot held up, sorry,â he quickly said, taking off his jacket and zipper hoodie and tossing them asideâ then after short hesitation also took off his t-shirt, leaving him in his sports bra and basketball shorts reaching just above his knees.
âNicky got his house key back, then, eh?â 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. Heâd never been a talkative typeâ sure as hell knew better than to tell Jackie Welles of all people about any of his personal endeavorsâ yet he still knew of all of Vitaliâs college acquaintances, the parties he visited, and also exactly what kind of drugs heâd been doing the night before.
Vitali scoffed, stepping onto the platform and immediately receiving a push from Jackieâs elbow that if he hadnât been paying attention couldâve easily knocked him over back into the ropes instead.
âNone of your fucking business, Jack.â
Another hearty chuckle. âIf you want your âyesâ to be less obvious, I recommend saying no next time.â
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.
âStarted without me?â he asked, gesturing at the robot.
âIf youâd ever bother to show up on time youâd be surprised of the things we usually get up to without you.â
Viktor finally moved out of his corner, smiling upon noticing Vitaliâs slightly offended expression and he came to a stop next to him, hands on his hips as he nodded at the robot. âLike it?â
Vitali grimaced and spat on the floor of the ring. âThat a trick question?â
âYeah. Donât like it much either. Al was kind enough to keep âer from this Militech stash some Valentinos brought in last week, let me poke around in the programming. Think Iâll let him know to sell her, Iâm sure thereâs some gym fanatic out there who could use the, uhââ Viktor paused, and gestured vaguely. ââ Artificial muscle.â
Vitali had never understood the appeal of a robotic opponentâ in any context, for that matter. He still vividly remembered observing his fatherâs 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.
Whereâs the fun in playing against a couple lines of code, designed specifically to find the most effective way to prevent its opponent from winning?
âWell,â Jackie said, giving Vitali a smack on the back of his shoulder with a no longer gloved hand, âyou two catch up, Iâm grabbinâ a drink. Sweating like a netrunner trespassing in NetWatch servers.â
âDonât get lost,â 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 morningâ though at this point afternoonâ 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 heâd had to fend off in high school, and heâd begun to struggle finding himself on the winning end of it.
âHey, Vikâ Whatâs up with this place anyway?â Vitali ended up asking, glancing over his shoulderâ noticing a second pair of boxing gloves in the corner of the ring, and he quickly walked over to put them on. âI meanâ I donât mind coming here, but why here? Special memories?â
âAlvaro and I go way, way back,â 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.
âOh?â No response. âReally now?â
Viktor paused, gaze catching Vitaliâs, and he scoffed.
âDonât push it, V.â
Knew it.
âDidnât say anything.â Vitali chuckled and put on his gloves, ignoring the tch coming from Viktorâs direction. He really had no right to speak, anywayâ with the shambles of his own love life in the picture it was none of his business to try and dig into that of Vikâs.
âNext time give me a ride at leastâ one more gopnik out in the street stare at me like Iâm his next prey Iâm buying a gun.â
Viktor visibly paused for a moment, eyes darting back in Vitaliâs direction as he watched him finish up. He walked closer and reached out to grab Vitaliâs wrists to help pull him back up on his feet once the gloves were on, with enough force that it wouldâve sent Vitali flying had he not been prepared for it.
âSurprised you havenât already,â he said, readjusting one of the wraps of Vitaliâs glove around his wrist to put it on straight. He noticed Vitaliâs caught off-guard stare, and merely shrugged. âLife in Night City ainât sunshine, kid. Donât think I gotta tell you that.â
It wouldnât be the first time Viktor had offered Vitali some well-meaning advice. Ever since Jackie had introduced the two to each other heâd voiced his concern about Vitaliâs substance abuseâ which, Vitali supposed, made sense, and although he definitely let Vikâs advice enter one ear and immediately fly out of the other he appreciated the gestureâ and since he had caught wind of Vitaliâs 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.
âYouâre encouraging me to buy a firearm?â Vitali asked, though the question was phrased more like a statement; doubtful one at that, as if he wasnât entirely sure if heâd heard the man right. âYou? Of all people?â
âWhat, I look like your dad to you?â Viktor paused, licking his lips as he took his sunglasses off to be able to look Vitali in the eyesâ something he rarely did, and Vitali instinctively straightened his back.
âLook, Vitaliââ Oh, here it comesâ âIâve seen the state of that apartment you call your home. Your landlord sure as hell ainât gonna protect you when some leadhead waltzes in in the middle of the night and decides the place is theirs now.â
He wasnât 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 heâd sketched out had already happened twice that monthâ and only one of those occasions had been Vitaliâs fault.
But despite that, he still wasnât sure why Viktor even bothered. Vitali wasnât asking for protectionâ sure as hell didnât need a fucking stand-in family member, now that his own blood had decided to ghost him after heâd left homeâ and heâd be lying if he said he wasnât 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 Viktorâs head, or he was vehemently ignoring it.
Vitali once again wisely kept his mouth shut, receiving an encouragingâ consoling?â 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.
âTook you long enough,â Vitali called, rolling back his shoulders to get himself warmed up and ready. âTold you not to get lost.â
âWent for a piss while I was at it,â Jackie apologetically replied.
Classic Jackie.
A pause, followed by a gleeful smile in Vitaliâs direction.
âReady, V?â
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 werenât allowed to aim for the head anywayâ 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 Jackieâs boxing pads until heâd gotten in the rhythm. He hadnât 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 wallâ an unrewarding situation even with Vitali getting his technique perfectly right, eventuallyâ and even when he started throwing in more of his weight Jackie still wouldnât budge.
Vitaliâs heart was beating a million miles an hour and he began seeing red, frustration pounding against the inside of his ribcage until he decided heâd had enough and sharply turned around, gearing up for a roundhouse kick directly in the middle of Jackieâs 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.
âLast time I checked we donât do kickboxing here, kid,â he calmly stated, arms still crossed in front of his chest. The expression on his face was next to unreadable. As usual. âGot it out of your system?â
âFights out there never go like this,â Vitali spat in defense, walking backwards and gesturing at Jackieâs boxing pads. âNo one in the real world is gonna stick to boxing rules when all they want to do is rip your throat out.â
âThey wonât, no.â Viktorâs voice was still agonizingly calm, as if he was doing it on purpose just to rile Vitali up more. âBut a fight in the real worldâs gonna be over real fuckinâ quick if you donât have any fundamentals to base your own style on. Your opponent will, nine out of ten times.â
Vitali was barely listening.
Every week went exactly like this, and it was starting to piss him off; he did everything right, every single timeâ okay, with the necessary amount of repetitionâ 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 Jackieâs gloves again which he had dropped on a side table.
âJack,â he said, tossing the pair back in the ring, âput these on. V, take a breath. Iâll show you what I mean, okay?â
Vitali watched in silence as Jackie changed gear, the beating of his own heart thrumming heavily in his head. He hadnât calmed downâ and if anything, Viktor telling him to take a breath had just made him want to break a piece of furniture even moreâ 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 againâ 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 comboâ jab, cross, left hook, againâ but Jackie parried it with ease and the force of it nearly knocked Vitali off his feet.
âPatience, V,â Viktor said, allowing Vitali to curse in Russian a couple of times before regaining himself. âDonât let adrenaline get the best of you.â
He was trying. Patience had never been Vitaliâs strongest suit, but he knew he had to work on it; instead of arguing with his teacherâ just this once, since heâd already stared him down enough at that pointâ he simply steadied himself on his feet again, and gave Jackie a quick nod.
âAgain.â
Cross, left hook, cross. Jab, cross, uppercut. Jab, cross, lead hook, cross.
Vitali kept his composure, nowâ 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.
âSwinging wide hopinâ to hit literally anything in the process has never helped anyone,â Viktor calmly remarked.
âAgain.â
It wasnât hard to tell what point Vik was trying to make. Vitali was impatient, sure, but not stupid; Jackie continued using the techniques heâd 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 hookâ 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 asideâ 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.
âMotherfuckerâ!â
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.
âAlright, alrightââ Viktor said in soothing manner, and he reached out as if to try and stop himâ 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.
âV!â
Vitaliâs attempt to walk forward was immediately stopped by Viktor, who grabbed his shoulders and turned him aroundâ and for a split second, just a moment, Vitali tensed up, instinctively readying his arms and bracing for not entirely sure whatâ and Viktor noticed, closing his mouth and loosening his grip on Vitaliâs 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 Viktorâs thumb rubbing gentle circles on his shoulder and tried to match up his breathing to it, until he could feel his heartbeat settle down.
âLook,â Viktor quietly continued, âwe know you can throw a punch, alright? A damn good one. I promise. You wanna play dirtyâ good. No one dumb enough to start a fight with you will be wantinâ to play fair either. Youâre not the tallest, donât have the strongest build. But youâre fast, and youâre agile. And you know how to use this to your advantage.â
âAnd none of it is good enough,â Vitali bluntly responded. Apparently.
It felt bad, saying it. Like admitting defeat.
âWhat is your weakness, V?â Viktor asked, ignoring Vitaliâs self-pity and circling around him, walking over towards Jackie instead. âWhatâs the one thing thatâs been keeping you from getting the upper hand here today?â
Vitali shrugged, tossing up a hand and vaguely gesturing with it. âDunno. Indulge me. Iâm too trigger happy? Anger issues clouding my better judgment?â
âDonât let this get personal.â
Viktor suddenly turned around to Jackie and went for a sharp cross, left hook, crossâ Vitali braced himself again, but Jackie was quick and positioned himself toâ albeit a little awkwardlyâ successfully block each and every one of Viktorâs incoming attacks.
âYou started with a lucky kick,â Viktor called, taking a few steps back and gesturing for Jackie to follow along, centering the two of them in the ring. âA fine kick, too. Pushed olâ Jack here back with it. Didnât knock him off balance, though.â
âYou donât have to rub it in,â Vitali coldly replied as he watched Viktor go for another quick double jab and cross, noticing Jackieâs slightly more tense composure now that he had a differentâ and arguably much more experiencedâ opponent in front of him.
âIâm not.â Viktor blocked Jackieâs jab and dodged his hook. âIâm trying to make a point.â
âI parried you, earlier,â Jackie said, rolling back his shoulders as he steadied himself. âYou lunged at me. Got out of your position.â
âAnd then you proceeded to swing wide, losinâ your own center of gravity.â 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. âAnd 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. Howâs that?â
âI donât know!â
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 directionâ 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 Vitaliâs feet. âFootingâs miles off, kid.â
Iâm going to kill myself.
Vitaliâs 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 bodyâ leaving behind nothing more than a deep pit of shame in his stomach.
âI can tell youâre used to dealing a single hard blow and leaving it at that,â Viktor said, holding his hand on Vitaliâs shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. âProbably a good thing. Wouldâa been a real pain in the ass for your teachers otherwise. But when it comes down to protecting yourself, what youâll want is confidence, not arrogance.â
âIâm not arrogant,â Vitali immediately snapped.
âYou sure as hell fight like it, though.â
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 wouldâve just walked away, or gotten angryâ but he had gotten far past that point, and now he just wanted to fucking understand.
âYou know when you win a fight, V?â Jackie asked, grinning wide and placing his still gloved hands on his hips. âAt the end of a fight. Not at any point before that.â
âI know that,â Vitali interrupted him, shooting him an irritated glare. âBut 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.â
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 opponentsâ 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.
âYou play chess, Vitali?â Viktor suddenly asked.
Vitali scoffed angrily. âDonât you fucking start with me.â
âCheck does not automatically mean checkmate, right?â Viktor paused, expectantly looking in Vitaliâs direction, but he didnât get any sort of reaction out of him. âSure, a hard strike might knock someone down temporarily, and in the right situation it might give you a window to run. But it doesnât immediately mean youâve won.â
Point made, point taken.
âSo you say Iâm arrogant because I fight to win.â
âI say you fight with arrogance because you expect to know when youâre gonna win.â Viktor paused, and gestured around the ring. âLook what happened here today, Vitaliâ you keep losing your footing tryinâ to land the finishing blow and none of them got you anywhere.â
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 heâd throw everything he had into it itâd make a difference, and then eating shit the second it wasnât enough.
âMaybe we should leave it for today.â
The words had left Vitaliâs lips before he could stop himself, a newfound control to his voice he hadnât even been aware he was capable of. Jackie shrugged, visibly not all too bothered by the idea either wayâ but Viktor merely laughed in response and he immediately shook his head.
âYou, giving up? Absolutely not, kid. Show me what you got. One last time.â
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, blockedâ 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 balanceâ but it wasnât 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 Jackieâs right, repositioning himself behind him insteadâ and rather than waiting for his opponent to turn around to continue the fight Vitali pushed his foot into the back of Jackieâs left kneecap to make him sink through his kneesâ quickly catching himself and regaining his balance on Jackieâs left to stay out of his reachâ and then swung around to elbow Jackie in the ribs which successfully knocked him down on the floor.
Finally.
âNow thatâs what Iâm talkinâ about!â Jackie roared, the sudden noise startling Vitali a little to the point he bounced back on his feet and readied his arms again. He couldnât 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.
âFootwork, mano!â he exclaimed, setting Vitali back down and playfully punching his shoulder a little harder than heâd probably meant for. âLook at youâ dancinâ around me like a fucking matador!â
âWell done, kid.â
Viktor was smiling, walking over to give Vitali a congratulating pat on the backâ yet something still felt off. Vitali couldnât say he was able to read it off the ripperdocâs face, or tell from his demeanor, but he knew he still hadnât done exactly what Vik had said and an all too familiar knot of anxiety tightened in his chest.
âI know I still lunged forward,â he reflexively said in response, âand I know you said to not do it. Iâll work on that, really, I justâ
âHey, heyââ Viktor raised his hands a little, getting Vitali to stop talking. âI didnât say anything, did I? You caught yourself, corrected the slip-up by using it in your sequence. You did good.â
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 overâ 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 goâ 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 beforeâ but it was nice to see some progress, as little as it was. At least he knew what to work on now.
âVitali?â
He quickly looked up, a little startled by the sudden calling of his name.
âWanna call it a day and go grab some food?â Jackie repeated himself, already in the process of taking off his gloves. âI could eat a horse right now.â
âWhen not?â Vitali playfully replied, grinning and protectively lifting his forearms when Jackie reached out to slap him with one of the gloves. âSounds good. Nickâs impromptu scrambled eggs breakfast wasnât great.â
âWhat did I say, mano? Right all a-fucking-long.â
âShut up, Jack.â












