Prior to that night's fight, Marcus Drake was quite on the edge. Be it the sleepless nights, the haunting nightmares, or knowing that this was going to be another night of pain and anguish for him, he could not find a minute's rest.
The crowd was raucous that night. The atmosphere in the southern slaughterhouses, were the fights were held, was heavy and the fighters felt that blood was to be shed if they were to quench the crowd's thirst.
Drake was going to face a guy from the projects. He was bulky and twice Drake's size but the superhero had built up quite a reputation for himself. So his opponents grew bigger and scarier the more he would win.
Drake finished the fight in the first round. He was fighting like a wild animal and at some point he was pummelling the guy's head to the ground. The referee stopped the fight and had to pull him off the sorry bastard since he was beating the living daylights out of him.
"What got into you?" I asked him when he got out of the ring?
He just said, "It's him ...." and walked away.
The crowd was raucous that night. The atmosphere in the southern slaughterhouses, were the fights were held, was heavy and the fighters felt that blood was to be shed if they were to quench the crowd's thirst.
Drake was going to face a guy from the projects. He was bulky and twice Drake's size but the superhero had built up quite a reputation for himself. So his opponents grew bigger and scarier the more he would win.
Drake finished the fight in the first round. He was fighting like a wild animal and at some point he was pummelling the guy's head to the ground. The referee stopped the fight and had to pull him off the sorry bastard since he was beating the living daylights out of him.
"What got into you?" I asked him when he got out of the ring?
He just said, "It's him ...." and walked away.
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