Series - Shorts: Shorts are short one off stories done by request of the person generally in the story. Meaning, they will be self contained even if they have characters from other stories. Good for when you are looking for a quick fight that won't hurt your eyes reading for a long time.
Teaser: Hot Day At Work. Jack's 24, cocky as hell, and thinks his perfect six-pack makes him untouchable.Kevin's older, tougher, and fresh out of fucks to give. One cheap shot turns a scorching jobsite into a brutal lesson in humility.
The red-hot sun blistered the job site like a furnace, somehow managing to be an even bigger dickhead than that murderous Sun from Super Mario Bros. 3. Metal gleamed beneath the relentless heat, hot enough to fry an egg and possibly the poor bastard holding the frying pan. Not even the thick industrial insulation seemed capable of keeping the heat at bay. Dust clung to sweat-soaked skin, tempers simmered, and the entire crew was approximately one minor inconvenience away from committing a felony. Most of the men had long since abandoned their shirts, deciding that the mandatory safety vests were more than enough clothing for this particular circle of Hell. Most of the men were smart enough to bitch to themselves... Jack, however, was having the time of his life. He strutted along the scaffolding, bare chest gleaming beneath his open safety vest, looking like he'd mistaken a construction site for a goddamn bodybuilding competition. Or what was the cool new thing? The Instagram photo shot? Twenty four years old, chiseled like a Greek statue, and possessing an ego large enough to require its own building permit. His abs were practically carved from marble, his arms were thick with youthful muscle, and his perfectly sculpted chest was something he apparently believed the entire world should stop and appreciate.
And he made absolutely certain everyone knew it.
Naturally with the power of youth came the absence of common sense. Unfortunately, Jack appeared to have received a double helping of the former at the complete expense of the latter.
"Yo, Kevin!" he shouted, loudly enough for half the crew to hear. "That beam's off by half an inch! You sure your ancient ass didn't measure it in cubits?"
Kevin, matching the other men with an open safety vest hanging over his thick, scarred, hairy chest, continued working without so much as acknowledging him. No words. No gestures. Not even the courtesy of an irritated eye roll. Absolutely nothing. Kevin had perfected the fine art of not giving a fuck, and Jack, unfortunately, had mistaken this for an invitation to try harder.
"Hey, Grandpa! I'm talking to you! You need me to explain what a measuring tape is? Or should I find you a fucking sundial?"
Kevin adjusted the beam, checked its alignment, and reached for another tool. Jack might as well have been talking to a concrete wall. Actually, a concrete wall might have offered more emotional engagement. Kevin had stopped listening the moment, well honestly years ago.
"Seriously, old man, look at you!" Jack continued, flexing one enormous bicep for absolutely no reason. "You ever hear of a gym? Or did they not have those back when you were helping build the fucking pyramids?"
Nothing... he really should have taken the hint.
Jack looked down at his own stomach, admiring the sharply defined muscles glistening beneath the afternoon sun.
"See this? This is what happens when you actually take care of yourself. Six-pack abs, big arms, perfect chest. This is a fucking beach body, man. Girls see this shit and lose their minds."
Kevin tightened a bolt.
"Meanwhile, you've got that whole hairy, beat-up, middle-aged construction worker thing going on. What the fuck is that supposed to be? Your stomach looks like it survived three wars and a divorce."
Kevin checked the next bolt as Jack's smile began to falter.
"You know, some of us actually give a shit about looking good. Not everyone wants to look like a goddamn lumberjack who got rejected by a bear."
Still nothing.Jack hopped down from the scaffolding, his boots landing heavily in the dirt. Now he was getting irritated. Not because Kevin had insulted him, not because Kevin had challenged him, but because Kevin had committed the apparently unforgivable crime of failing to acknowledge Jack's magnificence.
"You hear me, old man?"
"I hear you," Kevin replied without looking up.
Jack grinned. Finally, a reaction.
"Yeah? Then what the fuck do you have to say?"
"Nothing."
Jack blinked.
"Nothing?"
"Nope."
"What, you got nothing to say about all this?" Jack gestured dramatically toward his own chest and abdomen, flexing hard enough that a vein bulged along his neck. "Come on, man. Look at me!"
Kevin finally glanced in his direction, it was probably for approximately half a second. Then he went right back to work.
"Seen better."
Jack's expression twisted.
"Oh, fuck you!"
"Pass."
A couple of workers nearby snorted with laughter, which made things considerably worse. Jack stepped closer, his carefully manufactured grin disappearing beneath a genuine scowl.
"You think you're some kind of tough guy, huh? Just because you're older? Because you've got scars and tattoos and that stupid fucking beard?"
Kevin calmly picked up his wrench.
"I'm working."
"Yeah, well, I'm talking!"
"Noticed."
"Then fucking listen!"
"No."
Jack stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. He was accustomed to getting reactions. Admiration from women, jealousy from men, irritation from supervisors, whatever. He didn't particularly care what kind of attention he received, so long as he received it. But Kevin? Kevin appeared to regard him with roughly the same level of interest as a particularly unremarkable piece of gravel. Jack hated that. Really hated that. He hated it more than he could adequately express.
"You're just jealous," Jack snapped. "That's what this is. You're pissed because I'm twenty-four, built like a fucking God, and you've already got one foot in the grave."
Kevin shrugged.
"Sure."
"Look at this shit!" Jack slapped his own rock-hard stomach. "Not an ounce of fat! You could bounce a goddamn quarter off these abs!"
"Congratulations."
"Bet you couldn't take a punch to the stomach looking like that."
Kevin tightened another bolt.
"Okay."
"Okay? That's all you got? Fucking okay?"
"Yep."
Jack's face was beginning to turn a shade of red that had absolutely nothing to do with the oppressive heat.
"You're a real fucking asshole, you know that?"
"Been told."
Another burst of laughter came from the nearby crew.
"Mind your own goddamn business!"
The laughter stopped, although several men were clearly struggling to keep straight faces. Jack turned back toward Kevin, practically vibrating with indignation.
"Maybe your ears are going, too. Maybe it's time somebody showed you how to retire. Clear out some room for people who actually belong here. People who aren't washed-up old fucks pretending they're still tough."
Kevin set down his wrench. Slowly. Very slowly. For the first time since Jack had started running his mouth, Kevin gave the younger man his full attention. His thick arms hung loosely at his sides. Sweat traced the old scars across his heavily muscled torso, disappearing into the dense hair covering his chest and stomach. Unlike Jack's carefully cultivated beach body, Kevin's physique had been built through decades of hard labor, heavy lifting, and the sort of physical punishment that didn't come with flattering gym mirrors or protein shakes. He wasn't especially interested in looking impressive. He had actual work to do. His expression remained perfectly calm, almost bored. Jack stepped closer, puffing out his chest, trying to make himself look even bigger.
"Well? What the fuck are you gonna do about it, old man?"
Kevin looked him up and down. There was no anger in his eyes. No intimidation. No wounded pride. Just the exhausted indifference of a man who had encountered entirely too many idiots over the course of his life and had long since run out of patience for entertaining them.
"That right, kid?"
Jack's jaw tightened.
"Don't fucking call me kid!"
Kevin gave the faintest hint of a smile.
"Okay, kid."
And just like that, Jack's already fragile composure went straight to Hell.
Jack's smirk widened.
He'd had enough of being ignored, enough of Kevin's dismissive attitude, and certainly enough of being made to look like an idiot in front of the other workers. In Jack's mind, there was only one way to settle this. Violence. Without warning, Jack twisted his hips and threw a vicious right hook. It was a cheap shot by anyone's definition. No warning, no challenge, no opportunity for Kevin to defend himself. Just a twenty-four-year-old asshole deciding that his wounded pride justified throwing the first punch.
CRACK!
Jack's fist connected squarely with Kevin's jaw. The impact was tremendous. Kevin's head snapped violently to the side, his face whipping with the sudden movement. His glasses were ripped from his face, tumbling through the scorching afternoon air before striking the dusty ground several feet away. One lens popped free of its frame and skittered across the gravel. For a split second, everything seemed to stop. It was a "Oh shit" moment and everyone knew it. Kevin staggered sideways, one heavy boot scraping against the dirt as he fought to recover his balance. A sharp, explosive pain radiated through his jaw and across the side of his face. His ears rang, his vision briefly blurred, and the unmistakable metallic taste of blood spread across his tongue. Jack had caught him completely off guard. And the little bastard could certainly throw a punch.
"YEAH! HOW'S THAT, OLD MAN?!" Jack roared, practically bouncing with excitement. "NOT SO FUCKING TOUGH NOW, ARE YOU?!"
Kevin blinked hard, trying to clear the momentary disorientation. His jaw throbbed. He worked it carefully from side to side, testing whether anything had broken. Nothing seemed damaged beyond a split lip and what would undoubtedly become one hell of a bruise. Still, it fucking hurt. Before Kevin could fully straighten, Jack spotted another opportunity or another reason to be dumb... depending on your point of view.
"Oh, we're not fucking DONE!"
He stepped forward, and drove his right fist directly into Kevin's exposed stomach.
THUD!
This time, the sound was deeper, heavier, the unmistakable smack of a solid fist striking flesh. Kevin hadn't expected a second punch so quickly. More importantly, he hadn't braced for it. His abdominal muscles were completely relaxed when Jack's knuckles buried themselves in the thick flesh just above his navel.
"HUUGH!"
The involuntary grunt escaped Kevin's lips before he could stop it. His stomach compressed beneath the impact, the powerful muscles momentarily offering little resistance as the blow drove inward. A sharp, ugly ache spread through his midsection, forcing his body to fold forward slightly. His breath caught in his throat, and he instinctively drew his elbows closer to his abdomen. Jack had put nearly everything he had into that punch, and Kevin had felt every goddamn bit of it. For a moment, he simply stood there, hunched slightly, his jaw aching and his stomach protesting the unexpected punishment. It hurt. It hurt a lot more than Kevin particularly cared to admit.
But yeah... there was something Jack being young and stupid didn't know. It hurt, but that was all it was. Pain. His stomach was still solid, the muscles beneath the layer of natural body fat having endured years of demanding physical labor. The punch had landed cleanly, but it hadn't caused any serious damage, if any at all.There was no crippling injury, no sudden collapse, and certainly nothing that would prevent Kevin from continuing. He simply hadn't been ready. Had he seen the punch coming and tightened his abdomen, the result would probably have been considerably less unpleasant. Instead, he'd taken the full force of it while completely relaxed. Sure it fucking sucked, but take a moment, breath and he would be fine.
Jack, however, interpreted the reaction very differently.
"OH, FUCK YEAH!" he shouted triumphantly, pulling his fist back and admiring it as though he'd just delivered the greatest punch in recorded history. "DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT?!"
Several nearby workers had stopped what they were doing, Jack didn't care. He was getting the attention he wanted. He deserved. He was also too busy celebrating.
"ONE TO THE FACE! ONE TO THE GUT! THAT'S ALL IT TAKES, OLD MAN!"
He slapped his own perfectly sculpted abdomen, flexing his six-pack with a smug grin.
"SEE THIS SHIT?! THIS IS WHAT REAL MUSCLE LOOKS LIKE! YOU THINK THAT OLD, HAIRY FUCKING BEER BELLY OF YOURS CAN COMPETE WITH THIS?!"
Kevin remained bent slightly forward, drawing a slow breath through his nose. Jack laughed.
"What's the matter? Can't breathe? I thought you were supposed to be some big, tough motherfucker!"
Kevin exhaled, slowly. His stomach still ached, and the throbbing in his jaw wasn't going anywhere. He glanced briefly toward his broken glasses lying in the dirt.
Well, fuck.
Those hadn't been cheap... and honestly was probably the worse thing to happen to Kevin today. Meanwhile, Jack was already flexing again, raising both arms in a ridiculous double-biceps pose as though an imaginary audience were applauding his magnificent victory.
"LOOK AT ME, OLD MAN! TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OLD AND I JUST KICKED YOUR FUCKING ASS!"
Kevin carefully straightened. He rubbed his jaw once, then placed a broad hand against his aching stomach. Jack mistook the gesture for surrender.
"YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT! HOLD THAT FUCKING GUT! MAYBE NEXT TIME YOU'LL THINK TWICE BEFORE MESSING WITH SOMEBODY BUILT LIKE ME!"
Kevin looked at him. There was absolutely no fear. No panic. Not even much anger. Just mild irritation. Mostly about the glasses. Jack spread his arms, wearing the most obnoxiously self-satisfied grin imaginable.
"WHAT?! NOTHING TO SAY NOW, OLD MAN?!"
Kevin stared at him for another moment. Then, in the same flat, utterly unimpressed voice he'd been using all afternoon, he answered.
"Nice shot."
Jack blinked.
That was it?
Nice shot?
He'd just punched the bastard twice, sent his glasses flying, doubled him over, and apparently won the entire confrontation. And all Kevin could manage was nice shot? Jack's victorious grin twitched.
"You're GODDAMN RIGHT it was a nice shot!"
Kevin glanced at his broken glasses again.
"Expensive, too."
Jack's smile vanished.
Somehow, even after taking two solid punches, Kevin had managed to make him feel like the idiot.
Again.
Then silence.
Then Jack knew.... He fucked up.
Kevin moved.
Fast.
Far faster than Jack would have believed possible from someone he'd spent the last ten minutes calling an ancient, washed up relic. To his horror, Jack watched as Kevin twisted his hips, and drove a monstrous right uppercut directly beneath Jack's chin.
CRACK!
The punch landed with frightening precision.
Jack's head snapped backward, his mouth slamming shut as the force of the blow traveled straight through his jaw. Finally something shut the idiot up. His heels practically left the ground, his arms flying outward as his entire body recoiled from the impact. For one terrifying instant, the world simply disappeared. There was no construction site. There was no blazing sun. Nothing making a Mario reference while trying to kill them. There was no audience, no crew, no people at all. Just an explosion of white light behind his eyes and a deafening ringing inside his skull. Jack stumbled backward, nearly falling over his own boots. His knees buckled, his vision fractured into overlapping images, and the ground seemed to tilt beneath him.
He was still conscious?
Yeah, barely.
"HUH—WHA—"
His mouth opened, but nothing particularly intelligent emerged. Admittedly, that wasn't much of a departure from his usual conversational abilities. Anyway, Kevin stepped forward.
"Still talking?"
Jack blinked at him. There appeared to be two Kevins. Then three. Why the fuck are there three of him? Jack shook his head, an extraordinarily poor decision that sent another nauseating wave of dizziness rolling through his skull.
"Y-you... you fucking..."
He raised his fists, or at least he thought he did. One arm came up somewhere near his chest. The other appeared to be attempting to communicate with a nearby excavator.Kevin watched this display with an expression of complete indifference.
"Impressive."
"F-FUCK YOU!"
Jack lunged forward with a wild, desperate swing. It was almost cute. Kevin slipped aside. The younger man's fist sailed harmlessly through empty air, carrying enough momentum to nearly pull him off his feet. Kevin answered with a short, vicious left hook.
THWACK!
Jack's head jerked sideways. A fresh burst of pain erupted across his cheek, his teeth clacking together as the blow knocked him stumbling in the opposite direction. Before he could recover, Kevin followed with a right cross.
CRACK!
It landed squarely across Jack's face. His nose immediately began bleeding, a thin red stream running over his upper lip and dripping down onto the chest he had been so proudly displaying only moments earlier.
"AGH! FUCK!"
Jack staggered backward, throwing one hand toward his face. With no shouting. With no boasting. With no ridiculous flexing or displays of ego... Kevin advanced, he wasn't done yet. Just the deliberate, economical movements of a man who was thoroughly finished entertaining this particular brand of stupidity. Jack tried to straighten.
"I'M GONNA FUCKING—"
Another left hook interrupted him.
SMACK!
His cheek took the full force of the punch. Jack's head whipped to the side, his carefully styled brown hair flying as his boots scraped across the dirt.
"—KILL YOU!"
Kevin raised an eyebrow.
"Sure."
Jack attempted another punch.It was a pathetic effort, slow and badly aimed. The dizziness had ruined his coordination, and every movement seemed to arrive several seconds after his brain had requested it. Kevin knocked the arm aside and drove a hard right hand into Jack's jaw.
CRACK!
Jack reeled. His legs wobbled dangerously, and for a moment he seemed likely to collapse face-first into the gravel. Somehow, probably due to absolute stupidity, Jack remained standing. Kevin then sighed. This was becoming less a demonstration of toughness and more a testament to Jack's remarkable inability to recognize when things had gone catastrophically wrong. As Kevin shook his head, Jack blinked rapidly, desperately trying to focus on Kevin's face.
What the fuck just happened? Only moments earlier, Jack been winning.
He was twenty four years old. He had a perfect physique. He could bench more than most of the crew, had abs that belonged on a fitness magazine, and had spent years making certain everybody knew how magnificent he was. He was supposed to be the strongest man here. He was supposed to be teaching this old bastard a lesson. So why did his face feel like it had been introduced to a moving freight train? And why wouldn't the fucking ground stop moving? FUCK! But there was no time for this. Kevin stepped closer. Jack instinctively tried to retreat. Unfortunately, his feet seemed to have developed separate opinions about which direction they should travel. Jack stumbled sideways. Kevin caught him with another sharp left across the cheek.
THWACK!
"UGH!"
Jack's head snapped around, his knees dipped. A second punch followed, a compact right cross that caught him just as he tried to turn back.
CRACK!
"AAAGH!"
Jack's arms flailed uselessly. He could barely see straight now. Sweat and blood ran down his face, his perfect chest, everything now. His jaw screamed with every movement, and the ringing in his ears had become a constant, maddening whine.
Okay.
Okay, maybe this was a mistake.
That thought was immediately followed by another.
Maybe I shouldn't have punched him.
Then another.
Maybe I should've just shut my fucking mouth.
And finally, the most profound realization of Jack's entire adult life:
Maybe having a six-pack doesn't actually mean I know how to fight.
Kevin paused, studying the younger man. Jack swayed before him, battered, glassy eyed, and breathing heavily through his open mouth. The cocky grin was gone. The arrogant posture was gone. Even his beloved flexing had been abandoned in favor of the considerably more urgent task of remaining upright.
Kevin tilted his head slightly, for a moment he dared hope this could stop.
"Done?"
Jack swallowed. His pride screamed at him to say something insulting. To tell Kevin he wasn't finished. To remind the older man that he was young, strong, beautiful, and built like a goddamn Greek statue. Unfortunately, the rest of his body had apparently voted unanimously against that proposal.
"I... you... fucking..."
Kevin sighed.
"Thought so."
Kevin wasted no more time on words or emotions that his fists could express considerably better. Jack had spent the better part of the afternoon bragging about his magnificent physique, especially those precious six-pack abs. He flexed them, slapped them, boasted about them, and practically demanded that everyone on the construction site stop working to admire them. Well, Kevin had finally decided to give them some attention. Unfortunately for Jack, it wasn't the kind he had in mind. A sharp left hook caught Jack across the chin, snapping his head sideways. A stiff jab followed, striking his chest and forcing him backward. Before the younger man could recover, Kevin changed levels, driving a heavy right fist directly into his exposed stomach.
THUD!
"HUUGH!"
Jack folded forward, his carefully sculpted abdomen contracting violently beneath the impact. Kevin followed with another punch.
THUMP!
This one caught Jack just below the ribs.
"AAAGH! FUCK!"
Jack staggered backward, his hands instinctively dropping toward his midsection. Kevin stepped forward. The older man had discovered something rather interesting about Jack's celebrated beach body. It looked absolutely magnificent. Unfortunately, its owner seemed to have absolutely no idea what to do when somebody started punching it. Jack's abdominal muscles were certainly real. Years of dedicated training had given him impressive definition and strength. But having strong abs and knowing how to defend yourself were two entirely different things, and Kevin was currently providing a rather unpleasant demonstration of that distinction. Another left hook slammed into Jack's side.
THWACK!
The younger man twisted away, gasping. Kevin immediately drove a straight right into the center of his stomach.
THUD!
"OOOFF!"
Jack doubled over, crying in pain. His six pack, previously a source of seemingly limitless pride, had become a collection of rapidly worsening aches. Every punch forced his abdominal muscles to contract, and every attempt to straighten brought another sharp reminder of the punishment he had already taken.He tried desperately to do something to protect against the next blow.. .but he really had no idea how. Kevin's fist struck again.
THUMP!
"F-FUCK! STOP—"
Jack stumbled backward, nearly tripping over a length of lumber. Kevin caught him by the front of his safety vest before he could tumble off the edge of the raised work platform. For one brief, foolish moment, Jack thought the older man was helping him. In a way he was, but not to stop this fight. Then Kevin hauled him back onto solid footing.
"Watch your step."
Jack blinked through his swollen eyes.
"W-what?"
Kevin released his vest.
"Long fall."
The younger man barely had time to process the warning before Kevin delivered another hard punch into his midsection.
THUD!
"AAAUUGH!"
Jack's knees dipped.
Kevin had no intention of sending the idiot off the platform. He wanted Jack to learn a lesson, not plunge to his death. And the lesson, apparently, was far from over. Jack threw a wild right hand. It missed Kevin by an embarrassing distance. Kevin answered with a short left to the jaw, followed by a right cross that sent Jack reeling sideways. The younger man stumbled, blood running from his nose and split lip, his once-perfect hair now a sweaty, disheveled mess. His safety vest hung loosely from one shoulder, stained with dirt, sweat, and blood. Beneath it, his prized abdomen rose and fell with increasingly desperate breaths. The defined muscles were still there. Of course they were. But the skin across them had grown red and tender, and dark bruising was beginning to appear where Kevin's fists had repeatedly landed. Jack looked down at himself in disbelief.
My fucking ABS!
He'd spent years building that stomach. Years of crunches, leg raises, carefully measured meals, and obnoxious shirtless mirror selfies. And now some hairy old bastard was treating it like a goddamn punching bag.
"You... you fucking asshole!" Jack wheezed.
Kevin regarded him without sympathy.
"Started it."
"FUCK YOU!"
Jack lunged. Or at least, he had made the attempt to do so. His punch was slow, awkward, and badly telegraphed. Kevin slipped around it effortlessly, then he went straight back to work.
CRACK!
A hard left hook caught Jack along the ribs.
"AGH!"
THUD!
A right hand drove into his already aching stomach.
"HUURGH!"
THUMP!
Another left caught him beneath the rib cage as Jack's breath escaped in a strangled gasp. Then came more, so much more pain. Three punches. Three different angles. Each one delivered with the same cold, deliberate efficiency Kevin brought to his work. Jack staggered backward, clutching his abdomen. His muscular stomach tightened reflexively, but it offered little comfort now. Every breath made the bruised area ache, and the repeated impacts had left him struggling to stand straight.
"WHAT THE FUCK?!" he gasped. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
Kevin tilted his head.
"Me?"
"YOU KEEP FUCKING HITTING ME!"
Kevin stared at him. Then glanced toward his broken glasses lying several feet away. Then back at Jack.
"Funny, that."
Jack's face flushed with a mixture of humiliation, anger, and pain. He wanted to say something clever, or at least what would be clever for him. Maybe he could spout something devastating? Something that would restore even a fraction of his thoroughly demolished pride? Yeah... Instead, all he managed was a ragged breath and a particularly pathetic attempt to straighten his back.
Kevin looked down at Jack's trembling midsection.
"Nice abs."
For a split second, Jack's wounded ego seized upon the compliment.
Then Kevin added:
"How're they feeling?"
Jack's expression collapsed.
"YOU MOTHERFUCK—"
THUD!
Kevin's right fist interrupted him, striking squarely in the center of his abdomen.
"HUAAAAAGH!"
Jack folded forward sharply, his hands dropping over his stomach as the breath rushed out of him. His legs shook. The muscles he had proudly displayed mere minutes earlier were now trembling from fatigue and pain. Kevin stepped back, giving him room. Jack remained bent over, panting. For several seconds, the only sounds were the distant rumble of construction machinery, the relentless buzzing of insects, and Jack's increasingly miserable attempts to catch his breath. Finally, the younger man looked up. His face was swollen, his nose bloodied, and his expression a thoroughly unpleasant mixture of hatred and disbelief.
"You... fucking... bastard..."
Kevin sighed.
"Still?"
Jack answered by throwing another punch. That was somehow, even worse than the previous attempt. Kevin stepped aside, caught Jack's arm, and turned him just enough to throw him off balance. Then came another punishing body shot.
THUMP!
The punch struck Jack's lower abdomen.
"OOOOUUGH!"
Jack doubled over, his mouth hanging open. Kevin released him. The younger man staggered forward, trying desperately to remain upright. His entire midsection felt battered. His ribs ached, his stomach throbbed, and every attempt to draw a full breath reminded him of just how badly he had misjudged the situation. Jack's knees finally buckled. He dropped onto one knee, one arm wrapped tightly across his stomach while the other braced against the dusty platform. Kevin stood over him.
"Done?"
Jack looked up through watery, unfocused eyes.
For once, his mouth remained shut.
Kevin waited.
Then Jack managed to croak:
"Screw... you..."
Kevin closed his eyes for a moment.
Gods, this kid was stupid.
Jack struggled to rise, fueled by whatever scraps of pride hadn't already been beaten out of him. Kevin watched him straighten. Very Slowly and very painfully. The younger man's legs were unsteady, his breathing ragged, and his fists barely reached chest height. Yet somehow, the arrogant little bastard still seemed convinced he had something left to prove. Kevin shook his head.
"Bad choice."
Jack opened his mouth.
Kevin stepped in and drove one final, compact straight punch into the upper part of his abdomen, just beneath the breastbone.
THUD!
"HHHUUUUGH!"
Jack's breath vanished. His eyes widened, his mouth opening in a silent gasp as his entire body folded around the impact. For a moment, he remained standing, bent almost double, desperately trying to draw air into his lungs. Then his legs gave way. Then he sank onto both knees. Then his hands pressed tightly against his aching stomach. The magnificent beach body that had supposedly made him better than every other man on the job site was now covered in dust, sweat, blood and bruises. His chest heaved once. Then his abs muscles trembled. Kevin stood before him, breathing steadily, his own jaw still sore from Jack's initial cheap shot. He looked down at the younger man, could they now finally end this?
"Had enough?"
Jack tried to answer.
Nothing came out except a miserable, wheezing gasp.
Kevin waited another moment.
"Thought so."
He turned his attention toward his broken glasses. Jack remained on his knees, struggling to breathe, too dizzy and sore to stand. And somewhere beneath the pain? Humiliation? Rapidly fading anger? A truly horrifying realization finally began to take shape. Kevin hadn't been remotely impressed by his physique. He hadn't cared about the six-pack, the big arms, or the perfectly sculpted chest. He hadn't even cared enough to get angry until Jack threw the first punch. For all his boasting about being built like a Greek god, Jack had just discovered that looking powerful and knowing how to fight were two very different things. And Kevin? Kevin was already more concerned about finding out whether his glasses could be repaired.
Jack lay there, broken, blood and beaten as Kevin when back to work....
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