The machine didn't answer; it just cycled the next round. Thwack. This one caught him in the ribs. Aiden went down to one knee, the wind knocked out of him in a violent rush. He looked at the lens, his face turning a shade of grey-white, sweat beading on his forehead. He forced himself back up, his legs shaking.
"Alright, we’re live," he muttered, though the video wasn’t a stream. It was a recording destined for a URL that was already becoming a legend in the darker corners of the internet: ItsGonnaHurt.com . ItsGonnaHurt.com - Aiden From Boston.mp4
He pulled his face into view. His jaw was swelling fast, and he couldn't quite open his left eye, but he held up a shaky thumbs-up. The machine didn't answer; it just cycled the next round
The screen cut to black. Within an hour of the upload, the video had a hundred thousand hits. Aiden was a star, at least until the bruises healed and he had to find something even more painful to do for the next one. Aiden went down to one knee, the wind
The goal wasn't to dodge. The goal, according to the site’s twisted points system, was to take the hit and stay standing.
The basement air in South Boston smelled like old copper and damp concrete, but to Aiden, it smelled like an opportunity. He adjusted the ring light—a cheap thing that flickered if he breathed too hard—and checked the frame on his DSLR.