The brawler fills his view, looking for a chance power punch. Jab. Right. Hook. Jab. Right. Hook. The air is raw with ragged calls for blood. Breadbasket blows knock air out in grunts. The touching of gloves a distant memory.
Bang! Guard lost, opportunity taken. The world spins away in circles as he drifts delicately to the canvas with a gentle... bounce.
A block slides away. Mind, opening to a flood of white intensity, feels present, past and future merged. A beautiful voice made from music whispers something only half heard, intensely felt.
The Right Reverend Bobby Hammerfist gives his best broken toothed smile to the congregation as they file past. Known and loved throughout the county, everyone agrees, a most holy man and much better suited to the good fight.
Punch
