Getting back into shape (Anatra)

Mark calls his cousin a legend, which really surprises me. After all he didn’t even make it into the final battle of the pregames, let alone win. I was devastated because I became second and here Mark calls his loosing cousin a legend. Maybe other people look at fights in other ways than I do. Maybe I’m a legend in his eyes, too?
"Brave? He's a legend. That kid went from pinnacle to miracle in a matter of seconds."
He claims that he won’t make the same mistakes and he’s not using bow and arrow as a werapon so I clarify what I meant.
“I meant that you want to take part in the pregames, too. What’s your weapon then?” I stop for a moment to tie my shoe and then announce. “You know you’d better be good with more than one weapon in the pregames because you don’t know what they’re going to dump in the arena. It might not be your first choice.” Like mine certasinly isn’t a spear. I like close combat, simply using my fists.
I also learn that he regrets not being close to his cousin and then he simply joins me for the run. There’s nothing I can do about it because these are public grounds.
"We're not. I would like to say I regret it, but I'm not the best at being friendly."
“Me neither.” I guess we’re having a really casual conversation for two unfriendly guys.
I start out slowly but soon pick up the pace. It’s easy for Mark to keep up with me today because even this little movement has me breathing much harder than usual. It must be the effects of the deflated lung that’s still not back to its full capacity but the doctor told me to start excercising at a slow pace again to expand it fully.
Mark asks me about Tyren, which makes me think he’s testing me or something, so I keep quiet for a bit but then briefly say.
“We are. Blue and love.” At least that’s what my guess is because I’ve seen him wear and aweful lot of blue plus he had blue bed sheets and he has more than enough money but nobody to love. No girl, that is.
“If you want to get to know him, ask him yourself! Just run.” I let him know that I don’t want to do the thirty questions and answers.

A slight wheezing can be heard but I try to hide it by moving away from mark a little. My hand rubs the spot on my chest under which a slightly painfully tugging can be felt but I keep going nonetheless. My expression, however, mirrors how I really feel about this. I’m here…where I usually feel absolutely comfortable but can barely jog along. I’d like to go through this alone because it doesn’t only bring me down but also feel very embarrassing at the same time. Yet I can tell this guy to leave.
The only thing I can do is ask him with a pained frown. “Hey, don’t you have your routine to get back to?”

After I tell him about Tyrens likes he keeps coming at me with more questions while we jog along.
"Well you seem to know what he likes pretty well. Does he know yours?"
I'm not sure what he's trying to say here. Does he really wonder whether Tyren knows me that well? I doubt it. Or is he trying to say he likes me a little more than is good for us?

I choose to ignore him. After all I don't know the guy and didn't come to pick a fight, at least not today, so I keep running and try to hint that he should find something else to do but he claims that he's fine running. Resilient bugger!
So I either keep running at an embarassingly slow pace with Mark or call it quits for today.
"Running is doing it right now. You planning on heading out or something?"
We've just finished two laps but I'm already feeling the negative effects, which weigh heavier on my self esteem than my health.
Nevertheless I slow down even more and leave the track to get my bottle and towel.
"Yeah, I'm done for today."
In a clearly sarcastic tone I add. "I was a pleasure meeting yet another Orca."

Then I turn to leave because I've had enough.

Needless to say at home I go into frustrated mode and take whatever I can, which isn't much, out on the heavy bag in our garage. It helps a little and nobody's watching.

For the next two days I do sit ups, chin ups, push ups at home and run from here before I return to the public training area. That day I"m lucky enough to be there alone and I do a little better than the first day.

A week later I run into the same face again though: Mark.
As if we were old buddies I greet him from a good distance. "Hey, training for the games again?"

I came here in a pretty good mood because my health is shaping up slowly but surely. The good mood ended when Mark comes at me with the same attitude as last time. He's clearly much less polite than his cousin, who's name I've got dangling on a dog tag around my neck now as a sign of our friendship. Some might call that cheesy but since it's Tyren and he means a lot to me it's not, at least not in my book.

"Come back to stare, or do you want something?"

I tear my eyes off him and remind myself not to keep watching his work out since he's taking offense in that.
"No, man. You're not that pretty to watch." I can't help my quick tongue.

"Just to work out." In my mind I add 'and show you that I can do better than last time'.

I simply leave him sitting there and start with an easy jog, which I increase over the next 15 minutes to warm up. By the time I'm ready to hit the weights I'm totally out of breath. Things have improved but not enough.

So I sit down and wait a moment for my pulse to slow down and my breathing to become a little shallower and comfortable.
"Is your birthday coming up by any chance?" This is just a guess but how many career cousins can Tyren have?

After warming up I ask him about his birthday but it seems like Mark's gotten up with the wrong foot today because he's rather bitchy. As usual that kind of attitude rubs me the wrong way. I can't help it. I'm not one to ignore territorial behavior. The kind of 'don't piss on my turf' or 'who the heck you think you are?
Mark's got them both.

The guy rolls his eye and tells me in a rather unfriendly way. "Yeah, sure. Buy me something. I've always wanted a dog."
Then he gulps back his water.
My natural self gets a hold of me before I can switch on my tongue controll, so I snap back at him.
"I might buy you a ticket to the hospital."
Balling my fists I'm pretty sure he gets the idea of what his gift might be.
Hadn't Tyren mentioned that he likes a good punch up?
For a moment I forget about the injury that's slowing me down and become my good old self. Full of enthusiasm and self assured when it comes to bare knuckle situations.

"I'll wrap it up nicely for you and tie a bow around it."

Then I mirror what he just did and take a drink of my water before I start my work out.
Shirt off, water bottle down, nasty 'want-a-piece-of-me? look at competitor...check!

I mouth off a lot. I start a lot of fights but a lot of people just throw words back at me. Some ignore me and some get all in a flutter. Hardly ever does anybody jump on a fight just like that.
Mark's different. He reaches for the next best thing, which happens to be some metallic object so fast and hits me with it that I can't even see it coming. I'm totally unprepared because I didn't think one wrong word would make him snap like a twig.
At the last second I try to dodge the pole in his fist but he still manages to get me next to my eye. Momentarily I see nothing but black and white flickering as my hand protectively flies to that spot.
As if it wasn't enough he hauls off again but this time I duck and while I'm close enough sink my own left fist into the pit of his stomach.
Then I quickly back off to get out of the danger zone. That's what he is...danger!

I press my hand against my brow to check whether I'm bleeding but there's nothing so I focus on him, feet apart, fists balled and a death glare on my face.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
I know that it's a really bad idea to fight now that I've only been out of the hospital for maybe 2 weeks and far from in good shape. But I will never let anybody punch me and stand down. That's just not going to happen.
"You're fucking crazy!" I point at him and the bar while circling him.
Should I come in for a punch and let this become a fight? Or should I walk away? Tell him I'll whip his ass next time.

Against all odds the fear I went through when Jins stabbed me comes back to me at the worst of moments reminding me why now is not a good time to fight. One punch in the chest and I might be the one in the hospital, not him.

"I'll let you keep your teeth today but make sure to bring a box for them when I see you again." With that I take a step backward away from him but my eyes never leave him.

I'm fuming...actually that's an understatement but I know well enough not to get myself involved into the fight that Mark is trying to povoke because I can only loose and come out harmed. It's one of the hardest things to actually hold back right now because I'm ready to explode in his face like a maniac because he just hit me.
"Ooo, looks like concussion to me. Tell the nurses I said hi." He turns the joke on me.
He might be right but I don't care. Instead my face turns into a mask of fake laughter.

I tell him that he's fucking crazy and he comes back with "Yeah, and she's fucking you." I'm not even sure what that's supposed to mean. Who is she? Kyanite? That's not an insult, is it?

Whatever he's saying he should talk about her.
"Shut you mouth." My voice is slow and threatening although I get a feeling he can't be threatened.

"I'll see you at the pregames, Dunham. It'll be fun."
It's a challenge but one I'm not going to take because I'm not taking part any more.

We're only a meter or two apart but I know I have to turn my back on him and not let him provoke me any further or hit for that matter.

I turn around and take a deep breath to somehow rid myself of the anger he instilled in me so damn quickly.
It doesn't work, not at all. The thought of walking away from him after he punched me is just too hard for me...not my style...I don't have it in me.

So from one second to the next I turn back, close the distance, put my shoulder down and run him over with my body weight. The free weights that ares spread out behind him should makes sure that he ungracefully hits the ground. Perfect chance to repay the favor bare knuckled.

I grin at him. "I'm not taking part, shit head."

It’s too hard to contain my anger and my self esteem won’t let me walk away so I charge at him. I’m prepared though. When Mark defends himself using the pole in his hand I jump out of the way in order to prevent another hit since my face is still throbbing from the first one.
I know I have to be careful not to let him get me in the chest.
Instead of running him over I can only detour and let my shoulder connect with him. My fist follows aimed at the side of his face to makes sure he gets my message ‘You made a mistake.’

"Good. Worthless pieces like you don't belong on the board."
He’s going for the verbal low blows, which I’m not fazed by. I know what I’m good at and I think better than him on a good day anyway even if my chances today are slim.
Since he’s utilizing a bar as a weapon I quickly duck down and grab one of the smaller dumbbells from the ground to even out the chances. With my fists raised and one curled around the grip I’m prepared for whatever he’ll throw at me other than words.

I don't talk back because I hate it when people chat their wayThrough a fight