Jack motioned us back with the crowd roar growing for the fight to begin. “Nod, if you’re ready, gentlemen.”
We indicated readiness. Jack signaled us to start. Knowly was no dummy. He didn’t know me other than my YouTube videos. Those obviously made him reluctant to rush in on attack. No such hindrance slowed my opening. I ran straight at him, right arm cocked for a haymaker. Knowly jutted into a side pose to counter my attack. I dropped at the last second to the mat, lashing a pile driver roundhouse kick to my favorite target at the back of his forward knee. Oh my, did that blow change the fight vista. Knowly screamed out in pain, hitting the mat on his back. I scrambled to full mount and pounded him with forearm blows, body shots, and general mayhem until Tommy called out time from my corner. I rolled away to my feet. This was, after all, a training session. I don’t give a crap about Knowly’s MMA Heavyweight Championship Belt. I’m a ‘show me’ type of guy. Violence, pain, and brutality define me. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.
My complete wipeout of Knowly silenced the crowd. In the dead still of the cage, Knowly writhed from side to side before realizing I was waiting for him on my feet. Jack didn’t like it.
“Damn it, kid,” Jack whispered at me from where he stood next to me. “What the hell do you have going here… a training exercise again?”
I held my gloved hands in formal defensive position. “I’m surviving, Jack. Tommy’s calling the shots. Complain to him.”
Jack stifled his amusement. “Okay… I got it.”
Knowly finally figured out he needed to get up or pretend he was out cold. He stood, to his credit. With hands held in stolid defensive posture, he moved towards me, jutting out respectable jabs, kicks, and combinations. I measured his responses and power, countering with form. My counterpunches utilized combinations and speed. I took nothing for granted. Knowly was big enough to take my head off if I got cocky. Knowly began accumulating a bit of confidence so I blasted a left hook counter to his overhand right that I misjudged and nearly ended the fight. He stumbled quickly backward against the cage, his face a mask of pain. The round ended with me following him there with left jabs and short rights.
It’s dark beyond the well-lighted cage and front seat area. I didn’t bother wasting my time looking for Nejem family members. I knew my Monsters would be taking a Nejem family census during the fight. I sat down in my corner while Dev and Jess applied wet towels and salve. Jafar gave me a drink and Tommy gave me directions for the next round. Lucas, I knew had a seat behind my corner. I could hear him yelling ‘Recon’.
“I see you’re not playing with this guy,” Tommy said. “Stay covered. He’s had a bunch of knockouts to his record. Can you take him down for some hold work?”
“Sure, but a guy that big will have to go down like he did in the first round. I’ll have to buckle him, T. If I miss the takedown, he could smash me with an elbow to the top of my head. He felt the left hook. I’ll nail his ribcage with another and take him down.”
“Good plan, DL. I see Jack’s not happy.”
“We’ll be hearing it from the crowd too pretty soon. Too bad. We didn’t ask for this. Besides, he insulted Lucas. If I don’t get payback, Lucas will make my life miserable.”
“Take your time,” Dev said. “Screw the crowd. I liked your work last round. He’s fast and you set him up for that left hook perfectly. A little harder and Jess would have been nagging me to give him ‘Last Rites’.”
“Don’t make him see SpongeBob, DL,” Jess added as I stood. “That’s gross.”
“There are Nejems in the audience, brother,” Jafar said. “They are not happy. Daddy Nejem’s one of them. Lucas walked by him and spilled a beer on his head. It was very funny. A slight altercation followed. Two more Nejems were knocked out by Casey and Lucas when Daddy’s four companions wanted to rumble. They sat back down.”
“I’ll bet. See you guys in a few.” I waited for Jack to signal us to start. Knowly looked a bit too confident for a guy who just got his ass kicked. If not for the fact that Jack Korlos was the referee, I’d suspect the fix was in.
Jack started us. I went to work even more carefully. I pounded Knowly’s arms with blacksmith type precision and patience. He threw the right. I nailed him with the left to the ribcage again. This time, it dropped him to his knees. I measured him and shot a knife-hand strike to his left temple. It spilled him sideways, nearly unconscious. The crowd howled for blood. I worked as Tommy directed. Knowly didn’t know yet I was playing with him. He struggled gamely, trying to glance upward while writhing inside the myriad submission holds I locked on him, but then released. It bugged me a bit, wondering what the hell he kept searching for. I-”