Reality Fights Novels & Stories

Maybe I left it with the grocery bags. I internally facepalmed at my stupid self for not knowing what to do in situations like this. I’d watched like a hundred movies and read many books with fight scenes. I thought it was cool when they fought and really wished to try it out but when I saw the opportunity to fight in front of me in real life, I couldn’t even think straight. Chase was thrust into the ground by their fire flames, I guess and he had transformed back. He groaned in pain trying to sit up but failed miserably while blood gushed out of his wounds both on his legs and forearm.

he said in all seriousness. I wore dark-gray sweats and a navy T-shirt. I had athletic shoes and would keep them on but preferred shoeless dojo style fighting. My crew was waiting at the entry to our dorms. They fell in behind me, no one talking. We were early and I didn’t expect Gia for another thirty minutes. Mr. Caleb was waiting. Matteo and his crew were there. “No shit,” said Mr. Caleb. “This will be fair. Tap out or go unconscious and the fight stops immediately. Keep your pretty faces pretty and nothing permanent.”

Gio's first fight at high school didn't last long, about ten minutes, just long enough to attract attention of several students and the football and cheerleading coaches. Brock and Chris tried every way they knew to land a punch, but those that saw the fight would say Gio moved like one of those windsock puppets at the used car lot; or the more geeky of them, like Neo in the Matrix movies. He blocked and tossed used palm and knife hand strikes leaving the two jocks with split lips bloody noses and a good case of scrapes and road rash from being thrown to the parking lot repeatedly.

The realization hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest. Eleanor had been right… in a fight, the are a match. Dom's eyes narrow. And then with a sneer of his own , “Heh,” they truly begin to fight. The first exchange happens so fast my eyes can barely track it. Fist meets fist, kick counters kick, and each impact sends shockwaves rippling through the air. The sound is like thunder trapped in an echo chamber—a continuous rumble of colliding forces that makes my bones vibrate.

Beyond everything. "Then how? How do we fight?" With truth, the Seeker said. With reality itself. They're trying to enter. To become. But they don't understand reality. Don't understand existence. Don't understand what it means to be. You do. You're connected. You're real. Use that. Use your understanding. Your connection. Your reality against their void. That's weapon. That's answer. That's only way. I tried to understand. Tried to grasp it. "What does that mean? How do I use reality? How do I"

I shot at him, earning a laugh before he pulled into the driveway that looked like an abandoned eatery, we put on our masks, everyone had masks, they had to since it was illegal to be here. Stepping into the crowded room that had the big fighting ring at the middle of it, Kai went away to sign me up for a fight like he did every time we came here. People that paid money to watch fights here were psychopaths with different kinds of masks to hide their faces, and i was the first on that chart. Fights like these were dangerous, people could die, there were no referees, no rules, your life was completely in the hands of your opponent, you would decide if you want to let them go after you’ve won

About the bloodied bodies I’d seen in Dalton’s office? Matt continued, “This isn’t a battle to the death. You’re here to spar. Show strength, but don’t aim to maim or seriously injure your opponent. Understood?” A heavy silence hung in the air. “Understood?” Matt repeated, his tone sharper. A young man hesitantly raised his hand. “But if we fight too cautiously, how will we prepare for real enemies?” Matt’s expression remained unreadable. “When the time comes, there won’t be referees to stop you. No medics standing by. No rules. You’ll have your chance to experience real combat soon enough.”

After they finished the tournament fights, they would all be released, that is if they survived. Thinking of this, Kalen’s mind started drifting home again. He felt a little melancholic, but he suppressed the thought as his main goal now was to win all the fights before thinking about anything else. ************************************** Bam!! Bam!! Bam!! Kalen’s spear danced around furiously, as it slashed, crazily cutting down all the simulated targets. He was in the accuracy simulated battlegrounds; it was a virtual training ground. The simulated opponents had the strength of normal soldiers, but the sheer number of opponents was the main problem.

“Mitch, please. I know you didn’t have a fight tonight for The Rock, OK? And I don’t smell any alcohol on you at all, so you haven’t even been near a bar. But you’ve been hurt and you’re being cagey about it. So, what is it?” “I – you’re not going to like it, Reena.” “Probably not, but you’re going to tell me anyway.” “OK, OK.” He shook his head. “It was an underground fight.” Reena uncrossed her arms, and her hands went to her hips. “A what fight?” “Underground. Like, in an abandoned warehouse. Bookies, cash all over the fucking place, chalk on the floor. No rules, and most guys get taken out in dark SUVs and dumped near the E.R.”

They rolled, fists flying. Crunch— Hercules bit into Cain's knuckles so hard that blood splattered onto the concrete. He spat out the mess—along with two of his own loose teeth—before launching himself back into the fight. I nudged Jared. "Holy shit, I'm up for a good fight and all, but this looks kind of brutal." Jared nodded. "The people love it more than soap operas." "You think they're alright?" I asked, uneasy. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I heard bones break. And there's so much blood. You think it's all fake, like WWE?"