Attain

Taylor Truth has been raised in the traditions of Samurai martial arts, warrior training of the East. How will he fair in western competition, with all his skills stripped bare, as he conforms to the limitations of the western athletic sport known famously, as boxing.

Taylor Truth is not short of experience. Once fighting off seven muggers in a dark alleyway in london. Saving women from rape in the dark of night one unfortunate evening. Defending others from gangs single handedly, of upwards of 16 men.

It all sounds extroardinary.. But was that all luck, with a combination of skill? And being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Others being inept? One cannot truly say for sure perhaps.. So what will happen as he tests the limits in the bloodsport.. Boxing!

'Taylor! I'll place you up against the guys, one after another, if you succeed, you continue onto the next round.. If you make it to the end, then I guess you will know your worth.

I step into the ring first.. The anticipation builds.. the first guy, is an amateur with a soft glimmer in his eyes, like a fawn in the light.. I tell him to hit me hard.. Stomach, face, COME ON COME ON.. Defend.. I place some little taps against him to spur him on and ignite his fire.. HIT ME.. HIT ME!! I keep telling him.. Exposing my ribs to a strike here, and my face to a blow there..
He gets confident, only to be pushed back into his shell by a few shocking taps, his eyes go wide as his emotions tell him 'this is dangerous'.
It Was nice.. And spurring him on, reminded me of fond memories in my upbringing.. The chemistry of drawing out spirit in your partner, only to them do something subtle to let them know, that you had them.
But letting him just rip hits into me without blocking, took its toll.. Strength is something most every man has in bucket loads. The bell sounds..

The next guy.. is a big guy, bigger than me.. bit rusty, but used to train an unknown amount of time.. Aight.. I line him up with long reach.. knocking him off balance a few times, then get him way off balance, his gaurd utterly breaks, I tap him softly, with some hooks, he stumbles more, I hold my hands back.. Wave him up.. Bell sounds.

Next guy.. coach yells 'kick his fucking ass!!!' Now this guy, is getting special training from this experienced amatuer fighter, going pro soon.. Anyways, this guy, I knew was tactical he stays back and picks you off.. Aight!! Bam bam bam.. I shoot through the middle of his gaurd, pffft, explosion...
I stop, the guy shakes it off, comes harder... dus dus dus.. I block it off.. He's swinging when I'm swinging.. a few connect as I'm shooting, straights, but mine are far superior in reach power and accuracy.. He's knocked back.. I wanna do more so I start hooking, ripping.. smashing him down.. his gaurd up. Coach yells to him.. DON'T JUST SIT THERE, jab him off, jab, swing when he's on you.. Hard hard!!
But its obvious he's feeling defeat.. So for the short flurry of intensity, I take it down a few levels.

Ok.. Bell rings.. Fourth Round.. now I am incredibly fatigued!!!! My breath is heavy, its beginning to really show.. Now, its this smooth as honey, skilled aspiring boxer. Ooooooh no.. I am so tired, now the best they got.. Aight..
I feared, for his ability to take advantage of my fatigue if I showed it..

I faked an aggression.. Where underneath I was wary of expending myself.
He enters the fight with me.. And quite simply put.. It was great!
I immediately feel the pleasure course through my viens, at how he sweetly controls distance, pops off strikes.. I observe intently, his tight weaves, his evasive ability.. On a laid back gear, I still manage to keep him at bay. BAM BAM BAM I strike up the middle, he covers, I start barraging wildly, crunching into his ribs, his body, his face, he stutters back, I shoot through the middle, his head does the tell tale tip back.. I fend of his shots.. I change my gaurd.. Coach tells him to shoot at my body... I don't care.. He rips fast ones to my body.. My arms by their own accord fastly whip, and patter away each strike with amazing finess! I cut him up the middle.. He ducks and weaves.. I hit with uppercuts, and realise.. hmmm these are too weak and innaccurate.. I need these better.. I tap at him... I am truly spent, I fend him off, we shoot blows, shrugging them off each of us.. Ding ding.. Its over..

Big hug.. god damn man.. god damn, he says..
'so much power man, so much power!' 'great aggression man, whoa, so aggressive..' 'you have definate definate potential man definate definate'
Me: Damn I'm so tired, wish I wasn't tired, could of had a better fight with you.
'yo man.. that amount of rounds man, you are doing damn good.. nice'

I come out of the ring.. The little assistant coach, gives me an incredulous and then beaming smile, 'damn good stuff' his tap says more, than his words.. I'd managed to make some serious respect..

I crash, sucking air in wildly.. Gasp gasp.. slamming into the wall, falling to the ground..
I am fit, but you gotta hand it to these athletes.. I NEED to get fitter!

When I was in that ring.. I knew it.. I knew it.. I had the stuff.. And the better the guy, the more I loved it.. The tell tale, blast of pleasure, as a great punch is shot at you.. I remember that feeling.. Mixed with the gravel twisting under my feet in the street.. The glass, cutting into the flesh of your shoe soles.. As ripping power, surges towards you.

I remember that feeling. I know this feeling. Competition ain't so bad.
I need to push, I need to be pushed, I want to be made afraid again. I want to be ripped. BRING IT!!! BRING IT!!!

Taylor manages to with no experience, hold off fighters, by their rules. A reasonable test by any standard. Now he must take another leap, and find an even greater challenge. And then.. His Debut professional fight.

What will happen? How will he fair? In this, one of just the very many, skills he is currently investigating.