Rain fell without mercy, water droplets came down hitting stone pavement unabashed. There, a man stands waving his fist, doing a one-two with perfect footwork. He did one move, two, three, and so on until it left uncounted.
But why does a man swing his fist, amid the heavy rain? The man himself doesn't even know. No, he knows one fact, it is that he can only do what he knows best. Losing his career from boxing due to the coming of new generations of fighting contest. Losing his main income due to the young not enjoying boring basic boxing match. Losing his place on the stage, replaced by colourful young men waving fiery fists.
What can an old man do? Except for stepping down, leaving his throne for the young to settle down. But that is not the only reason why he does so. In losing his income, he also lost his family, his wife left long ago, but his daughter stayed with him. Until recently, his financial ruin doesn't stop him from thinking about his daughter's well-being. Thus, he sent his daughter to her mother, hoping she will be better off without her sad excuse of a father.
"Now, i have nothing left but my fist"
The silver lining of it all, he managed to secure a workplace in his old gym. Working in his former den of glory, cleaning the sweats of ungrateful youngsters, that, should be a misery. But no, this man is grateful for the opportunity, for this place gave him a clear goal.
"The fist knows no rust, it is used from the beginning of our civilization, to the way we are now. Let this old man show the world, at least let him try" He thought to himself.
Everyday, after the gym closes, he goes to the rooftop to train. Not just at dusk, he does it also at dawn, at noon even if the time was granted. Just with his two fists, no training appendages.
One, two, repeat
One, two, repeat
A year
Two years
Five years
Ten years
A decade later, he still do what he do best.
In a world that now no longer knows what boxing is, in a world where visual entertainment transcends all, where the old sports were deemed too boring.
He still stood there, remaining to the world as a ghost story. For the building were long abandoned.
Now, with one strike of his fist, a thunder stroke, a light claps at his might.
Now, with one strike of his fist, a wrecking ball got wrecked instead, a new project stopped as it stepped into his shed.
"Now, why was he considered as a ghost story?" A construction worker told his new peers.
"Every time he interferes with the project here, after he finished ruining our plan, he flew away, flew i tell ya, i didn't stutter now, ain't i?"
"Now, why did such a hassle of a man never got himself into trouble? Did we not approach him going inside the building? We did, kid, we did, but we never found any clue about his presence."
"That building is old, true. But when our boss goes inside to see it before buying then, he saw that the building is well maintained".
" So he asked the owner about the building, the owner said no one no longer used it, but they paid a caretaker to do the job, true, the caretaker got laid off when the boss bought the place. Then we start the project. But then this shit's keep happening."
"He broke our trucks, wreckers, you name it. But no, not one of our men got hurt, why we got to goddamn thank the man."
"What about the current news you say? I don't know what you are talking about. Are you a reporter?" Asked the construction man
"Well, yeah, sort of. So, have you heard the news of the boss? All the security bots of his got annihilated, and our boss was left hanging by his balcony, a whole 45m above the ground, in his bath suit"
"What are you trying to say? That he gave a warning directly to our boss? Why not rob him while he's there?"
At the start, the people responsible for the disturbance in his stead, one by one were dealt with. Even with the new robot security standing guard in the higher ups house, they stood no chance against him.
"My fists were true, it will not bent to time, no tin can can stand in my way. No man with suits can interfere in my training to breakthrough". The man thought to himself.
Having been brought out of his usual habit of continuous training all these years, the man found himself in a strange new world. There were no more security guardsmen, no more police keeping things at bay, no more man carried bricks with their backs.
What he found strangest was, that no more men fought for one another. Everything was now fought for the importance of massive locomotives called corporations. The world was no more governed by people upholding law for people, for it is now no more than a branch of one corporate body.
What the man found most intriguing was, that now the people was governed by fear, masked with sweet mask of necessity. Men no longer stood for themselves, for it is now ruled by an iron hand, figuratively and literally.
And what more can the man ask, but a worthy opponent to test his fists?
The man put on a black cloth he found at his old building he used to work at. The man put on a glove that he used at his golden age. And when he swings his fist with his newfound power, his fists shone with the colour of gold.
The man jumps out to the streets, waving his fists left and right. For he has no other goal but to set things right. What he did does brings results. And now, the town calls him with his appearance. Gold Fist.
With black cloth swaying behind his back. And two golden fists glowing at his hands, the man proceeded to bring the world a new spectacle.
The iron hands keeping people at their knees? The man brought it to its metallic knees.
The colourful men waving fiery fists, beings backed by corps to promote their armament techs, that put his career to end? The man brought them to tears, crying rivers of colourful tear drops.
And when the world all unite to brought the man down, come rushing from all directions bearing arms and fire, thought they had him at last, do they succeed?
No, the man simply flew, an unprecedented event unfolded in the view of the people. A sight of unassisted flight performed by one single man, and a man that goes against the threat that calls themselves corps. People can't help themselves to think, that a saviour had arrived to save them.
No, the one to break the world. Was here.
And he did. With one fist straight to the sky, the man broke the dark clouds.
With one fist aimed beyond the sky, the man broke the heavens, star flakes came down from the sky that just broke apart.
And when the world thought that it was all over, that the world has ended..
The man was simply gone. And the corps running at him were all still there.
Did the man succeed to break the world? It is apparently not
But did he failed? No, what just happens brought about new hope onto the world.
But how can people with hope alone stood a chance against the world as it is now? No, they are not alone.
"Here, at the center of Echo city, we the security/hero incorporations, were run by none other by the people, for the people that still seeks hopes. Now, is the era of heroes. And no hero stood alone."
Having found a new pathway, people begin to follow the footsteps of the worldbreaker, they now fought for the people, secure small businesses, fend off the corp's dirty workers.
And what's better than that? There now exist a corp willing to pay and more, promote them to become heroes.
Fame and glory now awaits those willing to fight and protect the citizen, anyone willing is allowed to join the cause.
"That phrase, 'no more lone heroes' was the new trend. So, why are you guys still here? Still willing to go out there promoting yourselves as entertainer? Singer? Idol? When all you do was being nothing but diversion?" Said an old lady to her new class.
"Yes, we do!" Said the class in unison.
"There's nothing wrong with chasing our own dream, isn't it? Following trends was all done since time immemorial, and there they were, singers, still standing tall, ma'am!" Said a young girl
With wavy hair, black, laid just below her neck. Sharp eyebrows lined clearly above both her almond shaped eyes. A single mole was adorned under her left eye. Her small sharp lips was curled into a smile.
"What's your name, dear?"
"It's Yeri, ma'am"
"Well said, but no. Dreams alone aren't enough, show me proof! Show us your effort in this endeavors! Do you have, the tremolo to show for it?" The coach said to her.
What happened next, was a tragedy. She was just showing off her repertoire of songs, that was just leading to the tremolo that the teacher wanted to hear. But, alas.
The classroom has become some kind of a crime scene.
"I guess, I'll just follow the hero trend now, huh?" Yeri said to herself