Twelve Rounds 3 Novels & Stories

I didn't answer. I clenched my fists inside my gloves. I didn't want to think about him. I didn't want to think about that video. I just wanted to fight. "For the third match, in the center ring, with a duration of three rounds of two minutes each. From the blue corner, with a record of twelve wins, zero losses, national champion three years in a row, Roseanne!" The cheers were deafening. Roseanne ran to the ring with her hands raised. Her body was muscular, her muscles clearly visible beneath her tanned skin.

Like we used to do to each other. “Yes, teach me Coach Derek,” I replied dramatically. “I am but a rookie!” “So each fight has three rounds,” he explained. “Professionals have five rounds, but these lower levels keep it shorter for safety. Each round is five minutes, and they have a minute break in between to catch their breath.” The fighters went back to the center of the mat to face off, and the bell rang. Again, they circled each other, looking for an entrance. “So it’s kinda like boxing?” I asked.

He is from a different section who has an old guy as their math teacher. She breathed heavily and said, “Yes! And I am going to win this tournament. Mind you.” He smirked at her “Okay, sweetheart. Go for it.” With that, he walked past her. And she followed him inside. The tournament has 3 rounds and one final round. The first three rounds have eliminations according to the scores. Two judges give out the scores and one secret judge gives secret scores. No cheating is the only rule. Jordan saw the process and left out a huge sigh. “Let’s do this J!”

His luck would run out soon. Over the next three rounds, the number of the dice was three, four, and six respectively. The sign Odell held up for each turn was also three, four, and six. Every round, John would wait for Odell to raise his sign before raising the same number as him. Odell got it right on every single round. Everyone looked at him with veneration. Many of them tried to sucker up to him. "Master Carter, you’re amazing at this.” "Master Carter is a veteran at this game.”

Ten is just such a nice, round number. Or maybe…twelve… THE END

“You scared I’ll knock your ass out this time?” Gasps and chuckles rippled through the room. Then I turned to the coach. “This your top pick?” I asked, nodding at Bernie. “Let me prove I’m better.” The others started chanting, “Let them fight! Let them fight!” “Alright, alright. Quiet down!” the coach barked. “Three rounds. Four minutes each.” He briefed us quickly and signaled the bell. “Touch gloves. Fight.” I went to my corner and started bouncing lightly, circling the ring. My usual intimidation tactic.

I can’t be caught here. Caspian jumps into the center of the ring, raising his voice above the melee. “Alright everyone, You know the rules. Three rounds, best two out of three. The first round you fight as you are, the second is at half-shift, the third you must be fully shifted. No holds barred – everything goes.” Kiera’s fingers are digging into my arm, “Viviane, are you okay? You look like you’re about to start hyperventilating.”

When they see all in the position, they bow their head and yells. “LUNA" I am surprised, but hide it, okay? I begin telling them how I will find the three contestants I am supposed to find for the running and the battles. I let line after line runs 3 rounds on the field, and the fastest in each group is going the be compete against the four others. And they will run 10 rounds on the field to find the fastest but also the one with the most agility and stamina. After nearly 2 hours, I have our runner. A young wolf named Patrick.

She looked at Yazoo and asked, "Do I have to give you three times the amount now or just one time?" Yazoo smiled. She really had no idea how to play. "Three times as much," Yazoo replied. "Oh," Waverly took out some money and gave it to the bookmaker beside Yazoo. They finished a total of ten rounds. Yazoo's luck was excellent as he was able to obtain cards with large numbers.

We’re starving, thirsty, and covered in stinking dried blood. Our escape will come, but not now, not when Meg is on the verge of passing out. “Listen,” Chessie says, looking up at the ceiling. The room rumbles, vibrating violently. “The platforms are lowering again. This round is over.” Seventeen rounds. Seventeen victors. Twenty, counting us.