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Who’s the Toughest? - © 2014 The Hitman – Pictures owned by Admiral Luke

Chapter One.

The cycle race was a hard one, running from Los Angeles all the way to San Diego with an overnight stop in Del Mar. Mark, Matt, and Peter were part of a team that was participating and as they were in the hotel room stripping off their lycra race uniforms and showering, a heated argument broke out between them as to who would be first place amongst the three of them the next day.

“I will win because I am the toughest of all of us,” Peter said as he toweled off and pulled on his all black outfit, including a baseball cap.

“Is that so, asked Matt, already dressed, sitting on the bed in his blue shirt and black shorts? “I think I can beat you in a punching contest. Are you game? Matt looked over at Mark, sitting on the other bed in his grey striped shirt and black shorts. “Mark can be the judge.”

“Hey, I’m just as tough as the two of you,” Mark spoke up, a frown on his face. “In fact, I insist I go first against Peter.” Matt and Peter looked at each other and both nodded to the affirmative.

By this time, Peter was dressed and the three headed out into the late afternoon sun for some time on the town before curfew. As they stepped out of the hotel room, one of the photographers for the race asked for their picture. The three stood in a row as three buds would, Matt in his blue shirt, Mark in grey, and Peter in black.

There was some sand behind the hotel, leading toward the water front.

“This spot should be work perfect,” Mark said as he and Peter faced off. “I’ll even let you go first.”

Peter smiled and drove a left uppercut right up into Mark’s floating rib. Mark responded with a loud and wet “oomph” as the first punch drove in.

Peter didn’t waste time, but followed that first punch up with a second, this one a hard right uppercut that also dug in deep. Mark hadn’t even had time to suck in any air after the first punch and this one left him gasping for oxygen.

Peter was unrelenting, driving in a third punch, this one a left uppercut that had enough power in it to lift Mark up on the balls of his feet. This time, the punch was accompanied by a louder “OOMPH”.

“Enough! Enough,” Mark gasped out before Peter could punch him again.
“That’s one for me,” Peter gloated, watching as Mark struggled to get his breath back.

“Yes, but now it’s my turn,” Mark replied. “We’ll see if you last any better.” Mark threw his first punch, a right upper cut, but Peter absorbed it without effect.

He followed it with a hard left uppercut but that punch didn’t seem to bother Peter either, hands on his hips.

But the third punch, another right uppercut, seemed to cut in some, making Peter gasp and Mark smiled a little in response.

Mark followed that with another right uppercut that managed to bring Peter up to the balls of his feet a little. Mark was gaining confidence at this point.

But that’s when the game changer came in as Matt stepped in behind Peter and grabbed his arms behind him. Now it was two against one. Another right upper cut to the same spot and Mark was glad to hear Peter go “oomph” for the first time.

Every punch after that, whether a left or right upper cut, elicited a response from Peter, a moan or groan, gasp or “oomph”. Left upper cut.

Right upper cut.

Left upper cut.

Another right upper cut into the same sweet spot.

Just as Mark threw another right upper cut into Peter’s gut, Matt noticed a person watching them from the street.

“Hey, there’s someone watching over there. Maybe we should find another place?”

Mark glanced over at the same time he threw a right hook straight to Peter’s jaw.

“I think you might be right, Matt,” as he noticed the bystander starting to pull a camera out of her purse. “Come on, let’s get out of here before she can capture us on film.”

Though Peter was a little woozy from the beating and the punch to the jaw, he wasn’t one to argue with the other two and the three lopped off out of sight.

End of Chapter One