CHAPTER 43: CHAPTER 43: TOMMY VS ANDRE JOHNSON II

Both fighters stumbled apart, breathing hard, both marked by the violence they’d just shared. The crowd erupted in appreciation for the fight they’d witnessed.

Tommy walked unsteadily to his corner, his legs almost not answering. The bright lights made everything look surreal, dreamlike. He dropped onto his stool and Danny was immediately there with water and ice.

Danny examined Tommy’s face with worried eyes. Red marks where Andre’s shots had landed, slight swelling around his left eye. "How you feel? Talk to me."

Tommy’s voice came out thick: "Head’s ringing. But I’m okay." The words felt strange in his mouth, like his tongue was too big.

"That hook caught you clean. You hurt him back though. That uppercut shook him up bad."

"He hits harder than I expected," Tommy admitted, accepting the water bottle with shaking hands.

"Yeah, but you’re fighting back. Stay aggressive but smart. Get inside where he can’t use that reach to hurt you."

Across the ring, Andre’s corner worked frantically. Jerome Williams checked Andre’s pupils with a small light while applying ice to his jaw. Andre blinked hard, trying to focus.

Dr. Vasquez leaned forward anxiously: "Is Tommy hurt?" Her maternal instincts overrode her attempt to stay calm.

Kevin bounced beside her: "He got him back! Did you see that uppercut?" But even Kevin’s voice carried worry now.

Javier shadowboxed nervously, keeping loose for his upcoming fight. But his eyes never left Tommy’s corner. Miguel whispered: "Both kids showed they can hurt each other. That’s when fights get dangerous."

Danny leaned close to Tommy: "He’s going to come out desperate now. Hurt fighters are the most dangerous. Stay disciplined."

The ten-second warning buzzer sounded. Danny pulled the stool away, checking Tommy’s eyes one more time.

"Two more rounds. Get in there and hurt him. Go finish what you started."

Tommy stood up on unsteady legs. His head still felt foggy from that hook, but his eyes burned with determination. One round down. Two to go.

The bell rang sharp for round two.

Andre came out like a man possessed. His corner’s desperation had infected him - he threw combinations immediately, abandoning technique for raw aggression. He needed to hurt Tommy before Tommy hurt him worse.

Andre landed a thunderous jab-cross that drove Tommy backward three steps. The shots landed with true and powerful, Tommy’s headgear rocking violently. Pain exploded through his skull like fireworks, fast and spreading.

Tommy’s vision blurred but he ducked under Andre’s follow-up hook. As the punch sailed over his head, Tommy’s body reacted with pure instinct - an uppercut that rose like a piston and caught Andre flush under the chin.

Andre’s eyes rolled back for a split second. His legs gave out completely and he grabbed Tommy desperately, holding on while the venue exploded around them.

"Jesus Christ," Javier breathed, pressing against the staging ropes.

Miguel’s eyes widened: "Kid’s got serious power in that right hand."

Andre’s arms wrapped around Tommy’s waist like a drowning man grabbing a floating balloon. His legs were made of water and he needed every second to recover. The referee let them clinch, sensing Andre’s distress.

When they broke apart, Andre’s movement was different - careful and respectful. He knew Tommy could end this fight with one clean shot.

Tommy sensed the shift and pressed forward. But Andre’s desperation made him dangerous. He fired a wild left hook that grazed Tommy’s temple, sending fresh lightning through his already foggy skull.

Tommy fired back with a body shot that doubled Andre over. The punch landed like a sledgehammer to the solar plexus, driving every ounce of air from Andre’s lungs. Andre’s mouth opened behind his mouthguard, gasping.

Tommy immediately went upstairs with a right cross that caught Andre clean. The combination - body, head - was textbook perfect, and executed with knockout intentions.

Andre’s legs betrayed him again. He stumbled backward, arms windmilling, trying to stay upright. The crowd was on its feet, sensing a potential stoppage.

But Andre showed heart. Despite being hurt, he fired back with a three-punch combination that all landed on Tommy’s guard with desperation behind them. His survival instincts had kicked in completely.

Tommy kept pressing, throwing combinations designed to break Andre down. But Andre’s desperation made every exchange dangerous - hurt fighters threw punches with nothing to lose.

Andre landed a clean jab that snapped Tommy’s head back, then followed with a right cross that caught Tommy turning away. The punch landed on Tommy’s ear, sending a ringing through his skull that drowned out the crowd noise.

Tommy stumbled sideways but immediately fired back - a left hook that caught Andre on the jaw and sent him staggering. Both fighters were operating on pure insticts now, technique abandoned for raw violence.

"Thirty seconds!" the timekeeper called out.

The final exchanges were brutal. Andre threw everything with knockout intentions - overhand rights, looping hooks, desperate uppercuts. Most missed, but when they landed, they rocked Tommy to his core.

Tommy answered every shot with interest. His punches carried months of frustration, years of being dismissed, the weight of proving everyone wrong. Each punch was thrown with bad intentions.

"Ten seconds!"

Andre loaded up for one final haymaker - a right hand thrown with everything he had left. Tommy saw it coming and ducked under, coming up with an uppercut that caught Andre flush on the chin.

Andre’s knees buckled completely. He grabbed the ropes to stay upright as the bell saved him.

CLANG!

Both fighters leaned against opposite corners, breathing like they’d run marathons. The crowd erupted in appreciation for the violence they’d witnessed.

Tommy raised his gloves weakly while Andre slumped against the ropes, held up only by the cables. The contrast in their conditions told the story of the round.

Tommy walked unsteadily to his corner, each step an effort. His head pounded from the shots he’d absorbed, but his eyes burned with confidence. He was winning this fight and everyone knew it.

Danny grinned despite his concern: "Beautiful work. You’re breaking him down. But he’s dangerous when he’s hurt. One more round."

Tommy’s breathing was labored but controlled. Two hard rounds of violence, and his conditioning was holding up. The months of preparation showed in his ability to recover.

Across the ring, Andre’s corner worked desperately. Smelling salts, ice, urgent instructions. Jerome’s voice carried panic: "You need a knockout! You’re losing this fight!"

Andre’s shoulders slumped as reality set in. His legs still felt unsteady from that final uppercut.

Javier watched with growing anxiety about his own upcoming fight. If Tommy - who’d been knocked unconscious months ago - could fight like this, what was expected of him?

Near the far ring, Johnson Wells studied every punch Tommy threw. His coach whispered: "That’s your opponent’s training partner. Expect the same intensity."

The ten-second warning buzzed. Tommy stood up, rolling his shoulders. His head still pounded, but his confidence had grown with each round.

Andre pushed himself up on shaky legs but refused to quit. His pride wouldn’t let him, even though his body was betraying him.

The crowd sensed a potential stoppage. The energy was electric, violent, hungry for a conclusion.

Tommy’s transformation was complete. The confident fighter in the ring bore no resemblance to the kid who’d been knocked out months earlier. Every movement showed growth earned through pain.

Andre’s body language showed defiance despite the punishment. His stance remained upright, refusing to give Tommy an easy finish.

The referee checked both fighters. Andre nodded that he wanted to continue, though his voice lacked conviction.

The bell rang for round three.