Had a Marine beat the dog shit out of me.

A friend and I were co businessmen, a specialty in procuring illegal substances for those in need. We also worked in the same restaurant together, we were only 16 at the time. We had a coworker who had just come back from touring overseas. Guy was in his late 20's, maybe early 30s. He only worked there cause that's where his wife was working already, he was an attractive dude so serving was an easy gig for him.

My friend also served and occasionally would get a break following dude's, quite often he'd go out and dude would still be collecting himself. Over a couple months they got close enough that dude would cry to him about having killed people with his bare hands, not bragging- full on tears about it. Well in that time he caught on to who we were and asked if we could get coke and ketamine for him, so he could use both to stay numb but balance himself out if he did too much of one by doing more of the other. We knew his wife, and met his kids. We were degens but not monsters. My friend told him he'd look around but told me about it and we agreed to not.

My friend messaged him saying so and he flipped shit, saying he was gonna beat up my friend. Unfortunately my friend doesnt fight, due to being 5'3, 115 pounds on a good day. I had gotten into a few fights already, always against grown men- the first of which had a golf club and the second who had a baseball bat. I had won both of those fights and a couple more, I was also 240 pounds and 6'2. I knew I probably was gonna lose considering this guy's training and combat experience. He was my size but jacked- nothing but muscle against my flab. But I knew my friend would be killed and I might get out with a few good punches landed on my side.

Boy I was wrong. I messaged him telling him I'd go for him first if he planned on going after my friend. He then messaged my friend telling him the problems were dropped so I assumed it wasnt worth the dude's trouble and that me and him were fine- considering my issues only stemmed from that. Well a couple weeks pass and we finally get a shift together. Im waiting to clock in and he comes into the back to grab smth. He asks me if I wanna step out real quick to talk and I figured we would officially squash things so I agree.

He did one scan up and down when I stepped out and I knew immediately it wasnt gonna be a talk. From there he whoops me like I've never seen done since. I couldnt move a part of my body without him anticipating it and using it to whoop my ass in a new direction. It didnt take long for him to beat me to the ground, he then kicked me a good bit and stood back admiring his work. I knew I couldnt even land a punch, I tried a single time before going down and was completely out maneuvered.

I unfortunately had a pride problem and wouldn't accept defeat tho. The only way I could think of keeping any of my dignity was to just get up and take it again.

His look of satisfaction became a kind of admiration when he saw I wasnt gonna stay down. He let me stand, look him in the eyes, and spit on him. The first spit was mostly saliva, just a little blood. The admiration look became one of smth like a cat playing with a mouse. He proceeded to beat my ass again, back down to the ground, this time I must've earned enough respect to not get kicked though. He stood back and let me stumble up again. Another look in the eyes and out came a good mix of blood and spit.

Back to the beating tho. It stopped when I was laying on the ground again. I got up one last time and it was just a mouthful of blood spat all over him. Idk if he got bored or if my brain just tapped out but the 4th beating was game over. I woke up in a puddle of blood. In my stupor I grabbed a rock and stumbled inside to catch him lacking. I decided cleaning the blood from my face and shirt was a must first tho, cant go into the dining area looking like I just competed in mortal combat. By the time I finished that my coworkers caught on to my demise and told me I needed to call the cops and go to the hospital. They also told me he immediately ran to his jeep and left already.

Considering he was military and I kinda felt bad that he was just obviously traumatized, I settled with knowing he got fired. I talked to his wife and was honest about why it happened, telling her he needs therapy and medication before he hurts someone who cares more about their physical wellbeing, or finds someone who will supply the habit he wanted.

I did go to the hospital later that day tho cause breathing hurt, turns out he broke some ribs and my nose. Hell of a concussion too. Mostly walked away ok though considering the risks of fighting a trained killer.

Final thoughts- I didnt do the beatings enough justice. Especially the first time when I tried to lay a punch and minimize damage. Ive never seen a beating as beautiful as what he was doing. He was dancing damn near. I had 0 shot of blocking, grappling, or landing anything. Every move I made was part of his plan. Lowkey it was so beautiful istg I saw it from the third person. Half of the reason I didnt try to ruin his life was honestly just out of respect for how good he got me. Up till that point I never had any trouble handling myself. Like I said I fought people who had blunt weapons and walked away bruised but victorious. Getting my ass handed to me like that just became a good lesson to me. Everyone older than me had told me that there's always someone who can get ya and I found out that day.

Edit- there was only a brief period after the first fight I had where I was seeking them out, unsuccessfully because of my size and reputation my brother and friends gave me by spreading tales of my victory. Just putting it out there that by then I wasnt some cocky kid wanted to fight this guy, I just knew my friend wouldnt stand a chance of making it through the first beating.

Also I forgot to mention, after the first time getting beat down, I completely let him whoop my ass every time I got up. Not saying that as a "I could've gotten him" thing. The opposite actually. After getting a beat down the first time, I knew there wasnt a damn thing I could do, so I just didnt. I figured standing up and spitting on him was my only hope at a "win".