Garp Punches Novels & Stories

********************************************** *PUNCH* Motherfucking! *PUNCH* Arrogant! *PUNCH* Self-absorbed! *PUNCH* Italian! *PUNCH* Prick! *PUNCH* Sweat ran down my face as my fist continued to make contact with the punching bag. It continued like this for another 30 minutes before I yelled out in frustration and roundhouse kicked the bag harder than necessary, causing it to break the chain connecting it to the ceiling and split in half on the gym floor. One freaking month. Thirty goddamned days!!! That’s how long it’s been since the little excursion with Ace in the basement. My fists clenched at the memory:

Garlof snarls, but I focus on Saz and Fornis as they inch closer to me. Suddenly Garlof swings, but I dodge back. Saz catches me by surprise during my counter and lands a good blow to my eyebrow. Fornis comes in low, but I block his rib shot. I clip Saz in the chin when he comes in to hit me again, but Garlof makes me pay by hitting my unguarded chin.

I told them. At first nothing happened but then I felt something to my right so I dropped and slipped under the arc of his arm. Swinging up I trailed along his back and struck his pressure point. From the position, I reckon I delayed his reaction time. Spinning around I punched his stomach, slammed my hand on his chest forcing the air from his lungs and threw him in the general direction of the crowd. One down two to go.

Arms locked with arms, legs tripped over legs. Jason didn't pause to admire his work. He stepped in close as the first man tried to recover his footing and his breath, driving a sharp, controlled jab into his solar plexus. The spot where all the nerves met. The air left the guard's lungs in a wheezing gasp that sounded almost like a deflating balloon. Before he could even process the pain, a swift leg sweep cut his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat. The second guard went down a heartbeat later with a heavy thud that echoed through the garage, vibrating up through the floor.

Garrett's is solid, grounded, perfect. Mine is shaky, unsteady, full of gaps any trained fighter would exploit. The crowd has gone silent. Watching. Waiting. I can feel their expectations. Their certainty about how this ends. They're not wrong. Garrett comes at me fast. No warning. No hesitation. Just pure aggression. I dodge, barely. His fist whistles past my face close enough to feel the wind. I counter with a jab aimed at his ribs. He blocks effortlessly, then sweeps my legs. I go down hard. The stone floor slams into my back, driving the air from my lungs.

The precise second Garrett reached down to grab my wrists, I exploded. There was zero clean martial arts or polished training in my movements; it was a sloppy, bloody, and desperate scramble for survival. I gathered every single ounce of my strength and drove my knee violently straight up between his legs, connecting squarely with his groin. Garrett let out a choked, agonized grunt, his heavy grip slipping from my shoulders as he doubled over in sudden pain. Before he could recover his balance, I twisted my torso and threw a hard, desperate elbow directly into the center of his face, feeling the satisfying, wet crunch of his nasal cartilage shattering beneath my bone. A thick spurt of dark r

ZAYDEN “Let go of him, you motherfuckers!” Carson roared a few feet away from Gavin. He was holding a large white plastic bag. He threw the plastic bag back to the stand and it landed exactly on the floor before the work table. Carson's punch fell on the nose of the thug who had a stick in hand, aiming for the back of Gavin’s head. A second thug throws a punch at Gavin which he blocked with his palm, eyes colder than frost. Yes, that's my boy. I raised him well.

Clang! Fulton’s punch smashed the golden magic circle in Gustav’s right hand so hard that sparks exploded! Gustav was also blasted dozens of meters away by the force of this punch. His feet left deep gouges on the ground! After he steadied himself, Gustav’s eyes flashed with a biting chill and murderous intent! On this side, Fulton still looked indifferent. He shook his fist and said, “You do have some strength. I thought I could take care of you in one move, but now it seems I’ll have to take more time.”

Pointing at Riccardo, Violetta cursed him with such intensity that she seemed ready to tear him apart. The more she thought about it, the angrier she grew. Despite wearing high heels and without a care if she might be exposed, she aimed a hard kick straight at his groin. Riccardo collapsed to the ground, clutching himself in agony. As the auspicious hour struck, the entire procession of vehicles let out a simultaneous blast of their horns. Violetta shot Riccardo one last glare before hurrying into the car.

​"You son of a bitch," ​Garrick lunged, grabbing Marcus by the throat and yanking him from the wardrobe. He slammed Marcus against the wall; the impact shook the floor, hitting the ground with a bone-breaking sound. Marcus roared, shoving Garrick back, as he swung a wild punch, but Garrick caught his wrist, twisting it until Marcus groaned. Marcus, enraged, slammed his head into Garrick’s chin, but Garrick didn't flinch. He pinned Marcus to the ground, his knuckles bruising against Marcus’s jaw.