Name :Michael Jacob-Francis
Fandom: Original Character
Word count : 285
“Hey, that was a great fight, Mikey!” His trainer had thought for a moment and then added some more cocky wisdom. The kid had fought well – was it his fault that no one knew of his opponent’s jaw? Such fragile parts of the head, it could not be avoided. Jaws were meant to be hit in professional boxing and a glass jaw meant that the boxer had to work ten times as hard in order not to be hit in that area.
“You couldn’t have known, you just couldn’t have.” The towel that he just tossed over Michael’s head in passing had drowned the rest of his words and any significant importance that they might of had. Point, however, was taken.
It was time to dry off the hair and the sweat. There were no real injuries and no blood tonight. It was a good thing. It was one less thing to clean and no blood coming from him after the night’s fight, meant that he could get out of here earlier.
So, his opponent had a glass jaw and after one good punch there, it was lights out. He shrugged. Not his fault – this was supposed to be a fault to be caught in the amateur ranks, but this opponent trained straight forward to be a professional. It was his opponent's fault for not training himself to protect the jaw better. As he peeled off the damp sweaty tape from his hand and fingers, Michael inspected for excess swelling. Flexing the digits to be sure, he tossed the tape away. Some boxers used the same tape over and over, considering tape used during a win, to be lucky. Not Michael –boxing was a sweaty disgusting mess as it was and while he enjoyed it immensely, he didn’t believe in luck, when he had faith in himself, God, and his training.(ooc—meta points to any who can find the spiritual fault in Michael’s last sentence.)