Chapter 4

At five minutes to 4:00 Mike left the locker room, walking slowly to the main ring where his corner man, Jeff was waiting. Jeff was one of the more experienced of the male boxers.

“How do you feel, Mike?”

“Nervous. It’s been a while since I actually fought anyone. Most of my fights in the last couple of years have been sparring sessions. This has the feel of professional bout. Do you have any advice for me?”

“Yeah, run.”

“Funny.”

“No, seriously, run. She’s big and strong, but I’m not sure about her stamina; no one has ever gotten past the second round with her. You can’t hope to stand toe to toe with her. Maybe you can tire her out if you’re always moving, making her come to you.”

“Right.”

He turned to see Truda come out of her office. She proudly walked to the ring as the twenty or so people who had been hanging around stood and cheered. His attention was so fixed on Truda that he failed to notice as Karla entered the ring dressed in a tight fitting referee shirt and a pair of short gym trunks. She walked over to him and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Don’t try to be a hero out there. If you get hurt, stay down. Don’t worry about the video. Truda will carry the video; that’s who most of the people are tuning in to see. You just do your best and protect yourself; I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Turning, she walked back to her corner, where she was handed a mike. From the center of the ring she began to speak.

“Ladies and gentleman, can I have your attention please. This fight is scheduled for eight rounds. This is a special bout as both fighters are instructors here at the Amazon Combat Arena.

“Introducing for the first time, our new boxing instructor. At 5’ 8” and weighing 168 pounds, it is my pleasure to introduce to you, Mike Wilson.”

There was a fair amount of applause, whistles, and wolf calls as Mike stepped forward and waved his gloved hand at the crowd.

“And in this corner, a fighter who really needs no introduction. Standing 6’5” tall and tipping the scales at 235 pounds, I give you our strength instructor and medical supervisor, the German Amazon Warrior, Truda Schmidt.”

Truda took two steps forward and bowed to each side of the ring and then returned to her corner where she shed her warm up jacket and brought her arms up into a double bicep pose. The muscles of her arms and shoulders grew to massive proportions, as she stared across the ring at Mike.

“Don’t pay attention to her; she’s only trying to scare you.”

‘She’s doing a good job. What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to this?’ Mike thought as Karla called the fighters to the center of the ring.

“Mike, Truda; I want a nice clean fight. When I tell you to break, you break, stop punching, and take a step back. No holding and hitting. There will be standing eight-counts at my discretion and a fighter can be saved by the bell, except for the final round. Any questions? Let’s give them a good fight.”

Mike only partially heard Karla’s instructions; he was preoccupied with the massiveness of his opponent. Truda was even more imposing in the ring than she was in her office that first day. She dressed in white shorts with leather trim and a white halter sports bra. Her short blond hair was tied into small pigtails and her piercing blue eyes seem to bore right through him. She filled Mike with mixed emotions, mainly lust and fear. The fighters touched gloves, and then returned to their respective corners. Mike was still forming his fight strategy when the bell sounded for round one.

Both fighters advanced to the center of the ring, and the fight began.

‘I’ve got to stay away from her power,’ he thought as he slowly circled her, always moving to his right. ‘But at this distance I’ll never be able to hit her.’ She fought in the classic European style, standing erect with very little movement, her huge arms close to her body with her hands held at shoulder height. Truda was content to shuffle along, biding her time, waiting for Mike to come within her range. Being nearly nine inches taller than her foe, she clearly held the advantage in reach.

Suddenly Mike closed the distance between them and fired two quick jabs that landed on her right cheek. Before he could retreat fully out of her range she fired a solid left jab that pushed his glove back into his face.

‘My God,’ he thought, ‘that felt harder than most of the clean shots I’ve taken during any of my previous fights.’

He continued to circle to his right, giving his mind a chance to clear, but before he could launch another attack Truda took two quick steps forward closing the distance between them. Once again her tree-like left jab drove his glove into his face, followed by a straight right that caught him flush on the brow over his left eye. Mike staggered backwards and fell into the ropes.

Sensing blood in the water, Truda came in for the kill. But Mike, keeping his wits about him, did the only thing he could, launching himself directly at her and clutching tightly around her body. Karla gave them a few moments to see if Truda could break free, and then yelled for them to break. She had to repeat her command when Mike, still feeling the effects of Truda’s punch continued to hold on, buying precious seconds of rest. This brought a warning from Karla.

“When I say break, you break; do you understand?” Karla took a quick look into his eyes and yelled, “Fight.”

‘I’ve got to get inside and stay there, otherwise she’ll tear me apart.’

This time as he circled her, he suddenly stopped, reversed his direction and then took three quick steps forward, ducking low below her jab, and stuck his head into her lower chest as he fired left and right hooks into her formidable abs and obliques. Mike felt like a mosquito attacking an elephant; his punches seemed to bounce off her body with no effect. The only thing he knew for sure was that at least he wasn’t getting hit with that left jab. It appeared to him that her extreme muscle development was hindering her ability to throw any effective hooks to his head or his body. He could feel her hitting his shoulders and arms but they were far less effective than when she had more punching room and could extend her arms. He had found her Achilles Heel.

As the bell sounded ending the first round, both fighters stopped punching and returned to their corners. Mike took a seat on his stool as Jeff applied an ice pack to his face in an effort to bring down the swelling that was beginning to form over his left eye. Truda, refused to sit, calmly leaning back against the ropes, draping her arms along the top rope. Her mind was going a mile a minute quickly analyzing how the fight was going and devising new tactics to combat her opponent’s strategy.

“You’re doing great out there, keep it up.” Jeff yelled as Mike stood waiting for the bell.

As the bell sounded for round two, both fighters rushed out of their corners. Mike, determined to take advantage of Truda’s weakness, immediately moved inside and began where he left off the previous round. Although they weren’t doing any serious damage, his punches were beginning to annoy her; especially when he popped up and hit her in the face with a left and a right hook before dropping his attack back to her body.

Before Truda could launch a counter-attack, Mike slipped back outside of her reach and began circling to his right once again. He didn’t dare become predictable; that would be his downfall. Instead, looking like Joe Frazier, he stopped circling and starting bobbing and weaving as he crouched in front of her, then moving into a peek-a-boo defense, his arms crossed in front of his face, his elbows, arms and shoulders protecting his head. Truda tried to hit the moving target in front of her with lefts and rights but because of the movement and the fact that she was forced to punch downward she was missing badly, expending a lot of energy for very little reward. By the end of the round she was clearly frustrated.

As Mike sat on his stool, Jeff massaged both his arms and shoulders trying to stimulate the circulation of blood to his aching limbs.

“Mike, that was fantastic. She’s totally frustrated. Just keep doing what you’re doing and she’s yours.”

Mike wasn’t so sure. He was running out of ideas and was worried that he could only get away with what he was doing for only so long. He knew Truda had the power to take him out with either hand with just one punch. He could not make any mistakes out there.

The bell for round three sounded and once again Mike started out the round circling to his right, away from her power. For the first minute he stayed away, only occasionally moving close enough to score with a quick jab and then retreat. Truda continued to advance trying to cut off the ring in an attempt to corner the quicker fighter.

Trying to keep her off balance, Mike moved back inside burying his head against her chest once again. He was scoring with solid shots to her obliques when he suddenly felt her dip her right shoulder. A moment later he experienced the worst pain he had ever felt in his life as she dug a brutal right uppercut into his unprotected gut. Before he could escape he felt his right arm become trapped between her body and her left arm. Truda, smiling for the camera, hit him with a second right, this time lifting his entire body off the canvass. A third and a forth uppercut followed before Karla realized that Mike was being held.

“Break, Truda; let him go. Break.”

Truda immediately released his arm, allowing Mike to sink to the canvass and roll on his side into a fetal position. Karla got right in Truda’s face, issuing her a stern warning for holding and hitting, then turned and helped Mike to his feet. Karla gave him a standing eight count, allowing him time to recover or at least catch his breath. She put her hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his eyes.

“Do you want to quit? Don’t be a hero. Are you okay?”

Mike’s pride would not allow himself to quit. He would go out on his shield before he quit. No, she would have to beat him, he wasn’t going to quit.

Reluctantly, Karla turned to Truda and yelled, “OK, Fight!”

Truda moved in quickly planning to end the fight. Mike, heavily favoring his left side, moved as quickly as possible to his right off the ropes. Just as Truda cornered him, the bell sounded ending round three.

Jeff jumped into the ring and guided a wobbly Mike back to his stool. As Mike sagged onto his stool Jeff placed two ice packs on his stomach and ribs. Mike tried to get as much air back into his lungs as possible, but with each breath he experienced a sharp pain in his ribs. He feared that she may have cracked one or more of his ribs on his left side.

“I thought you were finished. It’s a miracle that you were able to get out of that round.”

Mike did not reply, instead saving his strength and his breath for what he knew would be the final round. There was no way that he was going to survive this next round. He couldn’t stay outside of her reach for long and he sure as hell could not take another pounding like he had just received. When the bell sounded for round four he gamely stood and walked slowly to the center of the ring.

Truda, in a sign of respect for a valiant effort, raised her hands to her all but beaten foe. They touched gloves and began a slow shuffle around the ring. Mike had his left arm tucked in tight to his side in an attempt to protect his ribs. He knew it was too dangerous to stay outside, he had no left jab left to set up his right and his only hope was to get back inside and pound away with his right until the end came.

He never got that opportunity. As he tried to move inside he was met with a double fisted blow to his chest. It must have looked like a shove but was in fact a legal blow with both hands. He stumbled back into the ropes, which then catapulted him back towards Truda. Mike gazed at Truda as he attempted to put up some sort of defense against what he knew was coming. What he failed to realize until it was too late, was that Truda had shifted her stance to southpaw, with her right leg in front, and that her jab would now be coming from her right hand rather than her left.

With his left arm still protecting his ribs he had no defense for the straight right jab that came crashing into his face. His was only able to turn his head slightly, thus saving his nose. The punch landed solidly on his left cheek and everything turned to black.

The smell of ammonia brought him back to consciousness. When he could finally focus he saw Karla on his left, the ammonia packet still in her hand, and Truda to his right. Her discarded gloves were supporting his neck and head.