Rooster Fighter Novels & Stories

My eyes scan the audience to find the guy I am going to fight against. "I am not sure. Rico is a big boy. Do you think you can take him ?" "Just put these on top of what you bet”. Twigs accepts the money and we turn our attention to the fight. This time there are also tiny splashes of blood floating around in the air and land far outside the ring. I wrinkle my nose and do my best to breathe through my mouth. I try to divert my urges by studying the fighter's technique. The boss catches the Butcher's arm, and with the other he sends a powerful blow into his ribs. I hear a crunching sound, and the Butcher falls to his knees. The fighter is about to get up when the Boss kicks him right in the f

Only showing shadows of the wolf and displaying minimal physical features. "Earnest, what in the heavens is going on? How did Wayne end up like this?" Earnest was about to respond when Wayne charged him, swinging deathly blows at him. He had blocked, ducked, dodged. Unwilling to exchange blows with him. But this was Wayne, he was so damn fluid. Despite his madness, he was attacking him with the skilled technique of a seasoned fighter. Soon, Rojan was having his ass handed to him. Wayne was beating the hell out of him.

And he was holding his own. Rook moved like a fighter who'd spent years in back alley brawls and prison yards. He didn't have supernatural strength or speed, but he had skill and pure stubborn determination. When Kael came at him with wolf-enhanced strikes, Rook dodged and countered with precise hits to vulnerable spots. "Stop!" I screamed. "Both of you, stop it right now!" They ignored me. Kael grabbed Rook by the throat, lifting him off the ground with one hand. Rook responded by jamming his thumb into the claw wound on Kael's chest, making the alpha howl in pain and drop him.

With a barrel chest, dusted with dark hair, and a big, strong belly. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, fighting the urge to fan my cheeks. So many boxers are showmen. They play up to the crowd, they talk shit and try to psyche each other out, but not Pierro. He frowns straight ahead, quiet and focused, as his challenger peacocks on the other side of the ring. He's fighting an Irishman called Anderson, a younger man who made headlines with his shocking wins the last few months, but I'm not worried.

Rooster’s eyes kept twitching when he saw the sight. He wanted to step forward, but he realized that his body had constantly been trembling. Rooster barely managed to squeeze out his last bit of courage when he glared at Harvey York. “Who are you, kid?” he asked with a cold glare. He had been training in the Blackburn City Martial Arts Alliance for many years. He also had fought many experts in his lifetime. He had gone up against a lot of thugs in the Golden Triangle before as well, but it was his first time seeing someone as headstrong as Harvey.

The iron skillet fell to the floor, splattering its contents every which way. “Now, you listen, and you listen good, Curtis Jones. You’ve made fun of me and my beliefs since the war. Why would you give a shit about the “weirdness,” as you call it, now, right before the score that would set us all up for the rest of our lives? It was your idea in the first place!” Jones and Rooster were practically standing toe to toe. The 5’9” Rooster looked up at the 6’3” Jones, fire in his eyes. Jones ground his teeth.

Master Rocher scoffed and said, “Jairo? He’s the weakest amongst all the grandmaster-level fighters. It would be an insult to me if you compared me to someone like him. “If he’s at Jairo’s level, I can beat ten of him!” Westin’s heart skipped a beat when he heard what Master Rocher said, and he said, “Master Rocher, if you beat the hell out of this kid, I’ll give you $3,000,000!”

As the fighters before his match fought, some of the weaker fighters within the March family swiftly admitted defeat within the first minute of battle. The first round of fights quickly reached the fifteenth match within less than an hour. Two of these matches were between the fighters and the March family servants, with the fighters advancing in the end. In the last four matches, the first two ended quickly, and in the third match, Wilbur's eyes lit up as Locke, the fighter who used Tiger Fist, appeared once again.

The floor we were going to work on arrived and we exited the elevator. — Can you roll Rachel for five minutes, please?— Just for me to go to the bathroom and try to improve my situation! Louis was ready to deny it. — By favoooor! He snorted, rolling his eyes. — An Amazonian jaguar four days without eating. — he repeated dramatically. — You're going to owe me a favor from the greats! I breathed a sigh of relief. — Whatever you want! — Come on, crazy!

There were weapons on the right side of the room and a boxing ring was on the left side. He stripped his shirt and started to do some warm-up exercises. When he felt his body was ready he made his way to the center of the mat and fought his unseen opponent. Rooka's moves were quick and clean. Sweat began to form on his upper body when Wayne suddenly charged and it made him lose his balance, causing him to fall on his back with his brother looking down at him. "What the heck!" Rooka said he dodged Wayne's head butt and quickly rolled both of them so he could stand up. A punch and kick followed. All Rooka could do was defend his brother's blow. And they were not practiced blows, it was a full-