CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 42: TOMMY VS ANDRE JOHNSON I

Andre Johnson immediately fired a lightning-fast jab straight at Tommy’s face...

Tommy’s head snapped back just enough. The punch whistled past his nose, missing by few centimeters. His heart hammered against his ribs like a caged animal trying to escape. The bright lights overhead felt too hot, too close.

His breathing stayed controlled despite the adrenaline surge that flooded his system like ice water. His vision felt sharp, tracking Andre’s movements, but everything looked too bright, too intense. This wasn’t the gym anymore.

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From the staging area, Javier’s hands gripped the ropes white-knuckled. His system window flickered: [ANALYZING OPPONENT TECHNIQUE...]

His chest tightened watching his friend step into real competition. Real punches. Real consequences.

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"Good! Stay calm! Box smart!" Danny’s voice cut through the crowd noise, but it sounded distant, muffled by Tommy’s own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

Tommy fired back instantly with his own jab, catching Andre clean on the forehead of his headgear. The impact sent a shock up his arm - harder than any bag he’d ever hit. The crowd’s roar crashed over him like a wave.

The Marcus Garvey section exploded: "TOMMY!" Kevin jumped on his chair, nearly dropping his homemade sign. Dr. Vasquez clutched her purse, her knuckles white as bone. Tommy heard his name echoing from every direction.

Andre circled left, using his height advantage. His jab snapped out twice more - both landing on Tommy’s gloves with sharp pops that stung through the leather. Each shot reminded Tommy this kid knew what he was doing.

Andre moved smart, methodical and calculated. Every step deliberate, every punch thrown with years of training behind it. Tommy could see the confidence in Andre’s eyes through his headgear - this was just another day at the office for him.

Tommy recognized the pattern immediately. Every tall fighter moved the same way - float, stick, move. But knowing it and stopping it were different things. His feet adjusted automatically, trying to cut off Andre’s escape, but Andre was already three steps ahead.

Tommy pressured forward, remembering Miguel’s lessons about cutting off the ring. But Andre’s footwork was cleaner, smoother. He pushed off the ropes and fired a quick one-two combination - jab hit Tommy’s guard, cross caught his shoulder and spun him.

The cross landed like a sledgehammer. Pain shot down Tommy’s arm and his shoulder went numb for a heartbeat. Andre’s power was real - each punch carried knockout intentions.

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[OPPONENT STYLE: OUT-BOXER DETECTED] [RECOMMENDATION: PRESSURE FIGHTER COUNTER-TACTICS]

Javier whispered to himself: "Get inside, Tommy. Don’t let him box you." But Tommy was fighting his own mind right now, trying to process everything happening at once.

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Tommy reset in the center, bouncing on his feet, but his legs felt heavy. The canvas beneath him felt different than the gym floor - bouncier, less predictable. Even the air smelt different here.

Andre established his jab with textbook form. Each punch came lightning-fast, snapping Tommy’s head back with sharp pops. Judge Peterson leaned forward, making notes. Tommy could feel the judges watching every move, scoring every exchange.

Andre tried establishing rhythm, throwing the jab repeatedly. Tommy started timing it, but Andre was faster than anyone he’d sparred with. The punches blurred together, forcing Tommy to react instead of think.

Tommy’s eyes tracked Andre’s rhythm desperately. One jab, two jabs, then the pause. He stepped forward during the gap, but Andre was already moving, already resetting.

Tommy slipped Andre’s third jab and stepped inside with a short left hook that thumped into Andre’s ribs. Andre’s eyes widened - the shot carried more power than he expected. Tommy felt the impact travel up his arm, solid and satisfying.

The Gleason’s section erupted: "Tommy! Tommy! Tommy!" The noise was deafening, overwhelming. Tommy could barely think through the crowd’s energy pressing against the ring from every direction.

Andre immediately tied up, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s waist. The referee broke them apart. "Break! Step back!" Andre’s corner shouted: "Stay outside! Use your jab!" But there was urgency now that wasn’t there before.

Both fighters reset. Andre threw a double jab - both landing clean on Tommy’s headgear with sharp cracks that rattled his skull. Stars exploded behind his eyes. Tommy fired back with jab-cross, but his timing was off, desperate.

Andre opened up more, throwing combinations with growing confidence. Jab-cross-hook flowed together like water. Tommy blocked the first two but the hook caught him flush on the temple.

The world tilted sideways. White light exploded behind Tommy’s eyes and his legs turned to rubber. The hook landed like a baseball bat swung with bad intentions. He stumbled backward, grabbing for something that wasn’t there.

But instead of backing up further, something primal kicked in. Tommy stepped forward through the fog and fired a desperate uppercut that caught Andre under the chin. Andre’s head snapped back violently, his legs wobbling.

Andre’s knees buckled for a split second. The uppercut had found its mark perfectly, and now both fighters were hurt, both struggling to stay upright. Andre grabbed Tommy immediately, holding on while his head cleared.

The crowd sensed blood in the water. Their roar became deafening, pressing against Tommy’s skull like physical weight. He couldn’t think, could only react to what was coming next.

Andre recovered quickly, but his movement was more careful now. Both fighters circled each other like wounded animals, each knowing the other could hurt them.

The pace intensified. Andre’s jab snapped out in rapid succession, each one landing with sharp authority. Tommy answered with hooks that whistled past Andre’s ear, missing by fractions but carrying knockout power.

"Thirty seconds!" the timekeeper called out.

Both fighters pressed forward desperately. Andre fired a combination - jab, cross, hook, uppercut. The cross caught Tommy flush on the jaw, sending lightning through his skull. His mouthpiece rattled against his teeth.

Tommy’s vision blurred but he fired back immediately - a right cross that caught Andre clean on the jaw and sent him stumbling backward two steps. Both fighters were hurt now, both fighting on instinct.

"Ten seconds!"

Andre threw a desperate right hand with everything behind it. Tommy slipped it by millimeters and countered with a jab that snapped Andre’s head back just as—

CLANG!

The bell cut through the chaos like salvation. The referee jumped between them, arms spread wide.

"Time! Break it up! Go to your corners!"