Buck Bellringer: Heed the Call Chapter 2

A worldly bell rang for the first time in months for Buck and he could feel his adrenaline bursting in rhythm with it. The fight that ensued was brutal. Teeth flew and fists flew faster. The fight wasn’t about honor, Buck figured. It was cheap entertainment, and witnessing a particularly gruesome hit, Buck decided it was a bit too violent for entertainment. Buck whistled loudly and the fight stopped; that's when the crowd started. Boos and insults were slung from the crowd, fierce indignation for stopping a perfectly good bloodbath. Buck had seen enough. He just walked out. As he exited the building cold air rushed around him the dark street and the night air reminded Buck of his family. He dispelled these memories with a puff of cigar smoke and began the long walk back to the neighborhood watch. Buck spent the night listening to the sounds of the city while he sat on a mattress laid on the floor. As the room filled with smoke from his cigar and as the smoke of weariness clouded his eyes the man drifted to sleep.
Buck didn’t go back out to the gym again the next few days he walked the streets of Seattle straining his eyes to take in all the mighty US buildings constructed by average joes with super strength. Buck thought about his little neighborhood watch building a pitiful construct to its peers that had somehow managed to survive the end of the world.  The likeness was not lost on Buck this time. He trudged back to his home and slept for a day his mind ravaged by the ringing of bells that slowly quieted has Buck felt his responsibility to the world slipping. His thoughts wandered to his past memories of a little girl smiling kept the boxer’s head quiet for a time. 
Buck awoke with a start he could hear alarmed bells, someone was in the base level of his home. He recalled forgetting to lock the front door the night before or maybe he had chosen not to either way the consequences were stomping around his lobby now. Buck cautiously stepped downstairs and entered the lobby tensed. The young man standing in Buck’s lobby didn’t send off any bells in Bucks head, which worried the boxer. Of all the things Buck had dealt with he should have began to assume teenagers would be on the top of his list. The young man was is hysteria. In a state of shock he had wandered into a familiar and ordinary place, a relic of the past long made unnecessary but a familiar relic nonetheless. The boy kept telling his story over and over again around the ninth time Buck was steamed. He called over the police and explained to them what happened while he puffed on a fresh cigar. When they arrived the rag tag assembly of super police got a laugh at the existence of such a thing as a neighborhood watch. 
They said they would put in a word about the eager boxer to the precinct and as they carted the kid away Buck had to interject, “If it really’s was that Ringer fella, youse fellas betters be careful I’ds hates to see what happened to this mug happen to a good fella like a cop.” Buck watched as the police left a dull ringing began in his head and didn’t stop. Buck could tell things were changing deals were being made and there was more to this than he had heard. There was only one noise Buck intended to hear for a while now though, the dull sound of punching bag bruising. 
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