It was as if his senses had sharpened. He could see it all in vivid 4K detail, the man in front of him and his own hands held up in front of himself. Balled into fists.
Thumb goes on the outside of your fist, on top of the middle knuckle. Keep your feet apart and your knees bent. One leg forward, one leg back. He'd heard about that somewhere, so it must be true.
This was real, though, and nothing could compare to the impact head-on. Raymond's head twisted to the side from receiving a punch. Yelling came from the crowd.
He got up and tasted iron in his mouth. He was floating in a pool of water, into which he spat out his own blood, and planted his feet on the ground.
His opponent hovered over him. His hands were raised. He was saying something.
"Hey, call it off already. I don't want to kill you."
Raymond responded with an answer of his own.
He swung.
This time, it wasn't his own neck that snapped back.
They circled around the ring, eyeing each other up. Raymond's hand was numb. When he swung again, so did his opponent. He took a hit, then another. Left, right, left, right. In a blur, he could see it coming, but he wasn't fast enough.
To the external eye, he was stumbling around like a puppet, getting up each time he went down like being pulled by a string.
A puppet with crazy eyes, who stared straight ahead like a maniac. Not a drop of fear, but only desperation, and that would unnerve anyone.
I can do it. I can do it. I'm stronger than him, actually. I just need to show it.
Those words repeated in his mind, until finally, he couldn't move anymore. The limits of his own capabilities caught up to him, and he fell to the ground.
The bell rang, and someone cried out, "Match... end!"