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Little Mac.
At 17 years old he began his journey. At first he was just some nobody with a fiery spirit, which was a fancy way of saying nothing new. There were many others like him, many other men who wanted to be the best, and believed that if they trained hard enough they could be the best.
Despite his lack of talent however, Little Mac rose anyways. He managed to walk the walk as much as he talked the talk, which was funny because he didn’t really talk much to begin with. He had with him the famous ex-champ Doc Louis as his trainer, and taught him his famous star punch.
With this, Mac soared through the circuits. He became the Minor Circuit champ, then the Major Circuit champ, and then finally the World Circuit champ. He was a man known for his impeccable evasive maneuvers, unwillingness to stay down, and devastating offense.
That didn’t mean he was invincible however. He’s had his fair share of defeats across his career.
His first loss came at the hands of King Hippo. The man was simply too big and hit too hard, he couldn’t knock him down at all. Then came Great Tiger, who utilized literal magic in the boxing ring. He was seeing quadruple before he even hit the mat. He faced one more defeat during his first attempt against Mr Sandman himself.
Yet he never gave up.
He did eventually chip King Hippo down into a knockout, and once the king was down he was out. He eventually saw past Great Tiger’s magical illusions and incredible speed. He even managed to match Mr Sandman in general. His strength, his agility, his ferocity.
Following this, Mac never lost.
Little Mac’s back never touched the ground after that. He had understood the game. He had solved the great art of boxing. He dodged every strike, hit every punch, and ripped out devastating star punches that ended the bout before the first bell. He became unstoppable. No one could stop him. Not some rogue ape named Donkey Kong, not some enormous version of him called Giga Mac, no one could stop him.
Then one day, he came.
Some young upstart from South Korea. He was a pale and cut 18 year old with dark hair and an even darker gaze. They called him Shadow Demon . Mac and Doc couldn’t help but wince at the name. So this was what kids were calling themselves nowadays huh?
This Shadow Demon made a name for himself by being the greatest swarmer people ever did see. He moved so fast, it reminded people of Mac himself. He could always slip in and unleash a flurry of punches that completely mauled his opponents. This was perhaps best exemplified when Shadow Demon faced Piston Hondo.
It was South Korea against Japan, no matter how far removed it was from the wars of the ancient past there was always a level of unrest between the two. Both boxers claimed that “ such drivel” had nothing to do with it, though it didn’t seem that way in the ring. Piston Hondo did his signature eyebrow taunts, complete with his disrespectful forward-facing bow.
Then Shadow Demon just let it rip. A barrage of punches that ripped right through the air. All unloading right on Hondo’s face. Hondo was down before it all ended. Piston Hondo had to retire due to injury after that. Other boxers followed suit, boxers Mac himself had faced. They’d tasted defeat for the last time. All claiming it was not their sport anymore.
Von Kaiser, Don Flamenco, even Super Macho Man himself. His precious mug smashed in, his glorious pecs annihilated by an unrelenting storm of punches. His meteoric ascension made Mac actually worry a bit. He’s faced plenty of new challengers before, each one faster and stronger than the last. Yet it seemed as if they’d all decided to just jump straight into the future now.
Shadow Demon was the fastest and strongest boxer he ever did see. It was like looking in a depressing mirror.
No matter. Mac’s got this baby!
Mac did not have it.
The first round was a terrifying clash. Shadow Demon’s jabs were quick and incredibly polished. They checked distance, set up follow ups, did damage, and scored points all in at once and each. Shadow Demon gave Little Mac no chance to breathe as he kept the fight in the pocket at all times, extreme close quarters and nothing else. He pinned Mac to the ringpost and went for him.
That didn’t mean Mac was completely helpless. Mac eventually adapted halfway through Round 1. After two knockdowns, that is. He got the timing right. He even started landing precious counter hits. Knowing he was in limited supply, Mac gunned for it the moment he saw an opportunity.
He went for a One-Star Star Punch.
Shadow Demon evaded it and knocked him out with a body blow.
“Easy now, Mac Baby,” said Doc Louis as he gave his star fighter a shoulder massage. He was currently seated at the gym, days after the fight. He had to get back to fighting but his body hadn’t fully healed yet. “All those victories have softened us up. Not just you, but me too. We’ve been swimming in chocolate!” Doc Louis joked. “We’ll be back in shape and show that there Shadow Demon what for!”
So the two did train. Following his defeat, the old talk of retirement eventually came to rear its ugly head. Interviewers, sportscaster, and sports video essayists across all forms of media discussed his crushing defeat and if it was time for him to finally hang up the gloves. Nobody was going to blame him for it.
This defeat does not define your legacy. You are old. It is merely an asterisk on his [Shadow Demon’s]. You owe the world nothing.
Mac refused. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was excitement. One could even argue it was nostalgia. The feeling of not being invincible. He had to prove to himself at the very least that he could still hang with these new bloods.
He wanted to retire as a champion.
By the time Mac got back. He had to fight his way back to the title. The WVBA had tightened its demands following an influx of newer, stronger talent. Gen 2 they called it. A generation of sleeker freakshows and deadlier knockout artists. To this end Mac ascended, he clashed with Aran Ryan and Mr Sandman again, though Soda Popinski and Bald Bull were eerily missing.
That was because of the man who was out to challenge Shadow Demon for the title next. The current #1 to face against the World Circuit champ was a man billed as Thunderbolt Monarch .
Thunderbolt Monarch was an out-boxer, the greatest to do it. Mac was quite the out-boxer himself, he’s faced his fair share of opponents where evasion was key. He’d evade their strikes and counter, earning points in the judge’s score cards or knocking them out cold and advancing. Thunderbolt Monarch however did it better. Mac himself couldn’t help but agree. Maybe he was just underestimating himself at his older age of 37, but he scarcely remembered a time where he moved like Thunderbolt Monarch did.
This new generation really was something.
Thunderbolt Monarch was a black gentleman, much like ol’ Doc Louis. Though while Doc was a proud American, the monarch was a Brit. An Englishman to be specific. He was quite the parliamentary person, treating boxing as a gentleman’s sport and scoffing at the thuggery exemplified by modern boxing as a whole, and how it disrespected the art. That being said, Thunderbolt Monarch was actually quite kind to Mac. He saw Mac much like himself, a true passionate artisan of the art of fists.
The English out-boxer ascended with a devastating streak of wins, convincing more of what the media had dubbed The Old Guard or The Previous Generation to retire. Disco Kid was first. Thunderbolt Monarch, then simply known as Thunder Robert, had been disgusted with the boxer’s mixture of dancing and boxing, and crushed him. Then there was the Great Tiger. Thunderbolt Monarch took one look at the Indian’s magical attributes and promptly decided that this too must end. So he did. He swiftly knocked Great Tiger out the moment he split and then converged into a series of attacks on the British boxer, landing none and then getting served a series of uppercuts.
Then there was Soda Popinski and his precious chemical drinks. Thunderbolt wasted no time in punching it out of his hands, causing him to fly into a red rage, to which Monarch evaded every swing and then knocked him out with a single blow, causing him to vomit out all of the chemicals he’d ingested. Bald Bull was much the same, the proud yet highly temperamental brute charged him with reckless abandon like he always did, and the Englishman pried him open with his fists, making a swell beef wellington out of him.
To take on Shadow Demon, Little Mac first had to overcome Thunderbolt Monarch.
Another loss.
Thunderbolt Monarch was too quick with it. They went all three rounds, and though Mac was able to evade his strikes, Monarch was much the same with his own. Though their counters were much different. Mac was eventually able to hit critical points and net himself three stars, and once Monarch was open, he punched with all his might. A three-star star punch.
To which, like a thunderbolt, Monarch raced in and smashed him in the face with a devastating blow of his own. Staggered as his punch was interrupted, Mac left himself open for a finishing assault, Thunderbolt Monarch’s patience had paid off and he unloaded on the old bull, knocking the wind right out of his lungs.
Mac sat by the old view of Lady Liberty. He used to run here, back when people allowed him too. It was a tad too congested to do that now, even in the early morning. Still, he looked at Lady Liberty and wondered where it all went wrong.
He couldn’t defeat the #1 Contender to get to the champion. He was fleeting. Fading. His body had accrued far too much damage. He was no longer whole.
Doc was out tending to his family. He had grandkids of his own to focus on. Unc they called him. Mac of course was invited, but he had a lot on his mind, and a body to heal. The dogs of retirement were nipping on his heels as his rivals had stolen from him his strength. His enduring will had waned into chalk as he no longer ran in the shadow of Lady Liberty, but merely sat.
“I knew you’d be here, Mac” boomed a voice. He knew that voice from anywhere.
“Mr Sandman,” Mac turned, watching the Philadelphian sit beside him. Even in his old age he was huge, and muscly, though much mellowed rather than his vicious self. The fact that he was still around was ludicrous, the fact that he could actually still hang on for so long and even nearly defeat Mac was another thing. It was a testament to his power and skill. “What brings you here?”
“I thought I’d pay you a visit. Maybe train with you.”
“What for?” Little Mac’s eyes widened.
“I hate to admit it. But these Gen 2 boxers are driving me nuts. I don’t even think I can beat them back when… well… back when we were in our glory days.”
“Heh. I guess we’re both old now huh?”
“We’ve been old for a while now, Mac.”
“Old but gold.”
“The young eat the old, Mac.”
“I never took you as much of a downer, Mr Sandman.”
“I suppose it’s a sign of the times.”
There was a new boxer on the block.
Okay, there were countless new ones on the block, but this one was a big one. If Shadow Demon was the ultimate swarmer and Thunderbolt Monarch the ultimate out-boxer, then this man was the ultimate slugger. He took every blow and unleashed blows that secured a knockout, removing the judges from the equation. Every punch was a bomb. A megaton warhead among sticks of dynamite.
Hurricane Titan was his ring name. A proud Japanese lad of 20 years. Tan with dark hair, and musclebound to boot. He made headlines when he knocked out King Hippo in a single blow, sending him right out of the ring. The king promptly retired after that, scurrying back to his precious island kingdom. The same was true for Bear Hugger, with the Canadian being nothing more but a big target for Hurricane Titan’s earthshattering blows. The man couldn’t even say timber! Like he always did. He was out of it. The same was true for Aran Ryan, who went for a sneaky headbutt after having surgically implanted some metal into his forehead, only for Hurricane Titan to power through the blow and break his face as well as crack open the skull with the metal panel included with a single punch. Aran Ryan too retired, citing that in all his life, nothing like that had ever bitten him. This wasn’t about luck anymore. Demons were running the WVBA now. This new generation had no place for old and tired wrestlers far past their prime.
This included Mr Sandman himself.
Mr Sandman held on where others fell. Though undoubtedly a slugger at heart, Mr Sandman was adept at being a boxer-puncher. He pooled together his decades of experience, natural talent, pure dedication, and God given strength to hang on, even scoring a win against Thunderbolt Monarch. He had effectively surpassed Mac in a way. How… hilarious.
Though in the end Hurricane Titan clashed with Mr Sandman. The two had an all-out war in the ring, but in the end it was Mr Sandman who was sent to dreamland.
The writing was on the wall. Mr Sandman too retired.
Suddenly, Little Mac was alone. Well, not entirely. Glass Joe was still around, but the distance between them had always been great. He had a championship to regain, yet the competition was only rising. Mac fought against the young bloods and took on Hurricane Titan.
“How funny it is, no?” said Glass Joe. He sat with Little Mac on a bench in front of the newest WVBA stadium, one that shall become the grand showcasing ground of The Second Generation . “One moment you were unstoppable, the next, we are the same. No offense.”
“None taken, Joe,” Mac grinned. People passed by them, not a single one noticing them as all of their eyes were glued to the big screens advertising the next couple matches. Yet again another boxer had appeared. A man simply known as God-o’-Mayhem . An American man with a blank expression and silver hair. Mac seemed to be the only one who noticed the skin-colored comm piece on his ear, likely feeding him the optimal choice of moves. He had been annihilating the previous boxers before him.
He out-boxed Hurricane Titan, swarmed Thunderbolt Monarch, and slugged Shadow Demon to acquire the WVBA World Circuit Championship. He had become the ultimate boxer, what Mac once was.
“How do you do it, Joe?”
“Hmm?”
“How do you do it? Losing so much but still fighting. You’re the journeyman-est journeyman to ever journeyman. You’ve lost more times than I’ve won. You were the first man I’d ever fought and you had 99 defeats to your name.”
“I just keep punching, Mac. The money is good. The people love me.”
“But doesn’t it hurt at some point?”
“We’re boxers, Monsieur Mac, it always hurts.”
“Then why not give in? We’re old. Why not quit.”
“Hohoho, Monsieur Mac. As a Frenchman, I cannot afford to surrender any further,” Joe jested. “Though if you must know, the answer is simple. The answer is because I love boxing.”
“Huh?”
“I love boxing, Monsieur Mac. No more, no less. You love boxing too, but in your victories you have forgotten that this is an art we partake in. A culture passed down onto us. I saw it on TV. My father heard it on the radio. Together we watched it live. Boxing is beautiful, it is what has allowed us, all of us, to craft our legends on top of feeding our families.”
“I… I don’t understand. I love boxing too.”
“Hohoho, you are so little it’s gone over your head. Or perhaps you are so good at bobbing you’d ducked under it as if it were another jab,” Glass Joe laughed. “Little Mac. It is time for you to forget about the championship, about your pride. Simply step into the ring and love boxing. That was how you entered the ring when we first fought all those years ago, no? This should be no different.”
“Love boxing, huh?” Mac looked down, then he looked at the screen and watched the countless boxing matches that unfolded, and the ones that were to come.
Little Mac nodded. He can do that.
“If I lose, I retire.”
That was what Little Mac told Doc Louis one day during training. Doc was incredibly old. Mac was old himself too. It was time to move on. His next loss was when his journey was going to end.
They got back to work. One last time. It was like Mac was a rookie again. Truly little in every sense of the word. He was the last old boxer standing in The World Circuit, and the new boxers of the Second Generation were eager to be the one to send him to retirement.
First up, Little Mac faced Hurricane Titan. The Japanese boxer was a frightening opponent, unleashing deadly swings. Each punch was a hurricane that tore through the field. Mac could barely hold on whenever he did get hit, and Hurricane Titan was so bulky that, like last time, he absorbed Mac’s own star punches. Both the one-star and even the two-star.
Three-stars was what he needed. Mac felt a star come up his way when he punched Hurricane Titan square in the face with a devastating smash punch right before Hurricane Titan went for a straight. Then he struck him with a polished jab right before Hurricane Titan pushed forth with a Dempsey roll right when he believed Mac’s assault was over. Finally, he scored one more when Hurricane Titan was sure they were about to trade blows, only for Mac to instead duck under the shot and then land a hook to Hurricane Titan’s neck.
Little Mac had studied the slugger’s habits, and he’d found what he’d needed. He’d extended him, tore apart his offense, and then chowed down upon his exposed form, gnawing away speedily at his bulky vitality until he left himself in a position where he could not escape Mac’s breathtaking ultimate attack. His three-star star punch.
The post-fight interview was simple. Mac said his intentions. He loses, he retires. If he somehow wins the championship again so be it. His next loss was going to end his career, no ands, ifs, or buts. He was going to lay his entire heart out on the ring. He may have grown slower and weaker in his age but his experience has honed him into a warrior fiercer than ever. They were going to face the full might of the most complete boxer in history. The very soul of boxing.
Thunderbolt Monarch was next. Mac organized his speed into bursts. He accrued his precious stars over the course of the match and kept the Monarch on edge when he was going to fire his star. The point of course being that he was never going to fire it. Being an out-boxer, Thunderbolt Monarch was reactive, meaning he followed Mac’s lead. With this, Mac decided the tempo of the fight, changing it rapidly to throw the Monarch off guard and punish him severely.
Little Mac ultimately won via TKO. Scoring his last knockdown when he feinted a star punch, causing Thunderbolt Monarch to overextend and get promptly punished.
Thunderbolt Monarch was a good sport about it afterwards, being honored to have faced Little Mac in his retirement tour. Though now it was time to face the man who sent him down this downward spiral. The current #1 and the last man he had to face before taking on the new champ.
Shadow Demon.
“You should have retired when you had the chance.”
“If I didn’t do it, I would’ve never known.”
“Well now you will.”
Mac crushed the Demon that night.
Mac took the biggest risk of his career yet. He absorbed the blows. He’d never done that before, but it was the right way. He’d always had an unbending spirit, and where his spirit went, his body followed. He took in all the punches Shadow Demon dished out and forced a mighty blow. It seemed that every punch he did this way netted him a star. Shadow Demon likely wasn’t expecting to get hit or get outlasted like this.
Perfect.
Mac, reeling and about to go down, made one final push and landed that sweet three-star star punch that allowed him to vanquish Shadow Demon.
Just like that, he had one last foe. The champion.
“Do you think you can handle him, Mac my boy?” asked Doc Louis as he stood by the ringpost. Mac was in the corner, a challenger once more as he awaited the arrival of the champion. He felt a familiar threat, like the first time he was facing Mr Sandman. “He’s the only other boxer right now that’s beaten Shadow Demon, Thunderbolt Monarch, and Hurricane Titan. Unlike you he did it on the first try too.”
“I’ll never know until I try. I’m laying my heart down on this ring.”
“Knowing your heart, it’s probably the size of your entire body.’
Little Mac smiled.
The champion, God-o’-Mayhem, arrived. He leapt over the ropes and into the ring, his coach was with him with a suspicious headset on her.
The lights fell on them, the announcer did his thing, they touched gloves, the bell rang.
Showtime.