Cage (15 page)

I could hear that the opponents hadn’t started fighting yet. In fact,
they seemed to be having a
conversation.
But
this wasn’t the usual, theatrical mockery that seemed to go on before these
fights…it was something deeper.

I just couldn’t understand a word of it over the crowd.

As we poked through the very front, the referee looked exasperated,
calling out in a startlingly loud voice. “Now that
sharing time
is over, maybe we can get this shit-show back on the
fucking road!” He waved over to Sawyer. “I’m proud to announce the return of
the legend, a man who has shed blood in this very cage time and time again…
Boooonesaaaaw!”

The crowd roared, but the doorman immediate grabbed the attention of two
guys nearby. One was clearly a stacked bodybuilder, and the other was this
thin, spindly Rasta dude.

“Hey! This girl’s the last one in! She’s never going to get a seat! Can
she hang out up here?”

“Jeremy, for the last freaking time,” the bodybuilder grumbled loudly.
“You’re always soft on the chicks! She should have showed up earlier! Send her
to the back! We’re not running–”

“Wait, Darren!” The doorman cut him off. “She says that she’s his
sister!”

The two of them turned to stare at me, and I heard the referee shout
out: “A vicious cage fighter, hailing from the seediest depths of Phoenix,
Arizona…I give you the lightning, the wise-cracker, the
Jaabbeeerjaaaw!”

Darren the bodybuilder was at my side in an instant, his ear next to my
face. “Look! Nobody knows Bonesaw’s real name! If you’re really his sister,
whisper it in my ear!”

“Sawyer. Sawyer Samuels,” I told him.

He paused, staring at me with wide eyes, and then a wider grin.

“She’s good, Jeremy! Leave her here!”

“Sure thing!”

The crowd was thrashing, and he pulled me aside to shield me as the
referee continued.

“As a special treat tonight, all restrictions are lifted. No tap-outs,
no guild rules. This is an unregulated bout with anything-goes rules until
knockout!”

I looked over at the two of them – the bodybuilder and the other
guy. I pieced together that he was probably the owner of the joint, as Darren
turned and shouted at him, barely audibly over the crowd: “What the
fuck
did you do?”

“Look, man!” Luke sheepishly responded, holding up his hands. “It was
just business, man! It’s a business transaction! Bonesaw told me to keep the
money and keep this place going, and I got offered a–”

Darren grabbed him by the collar, just as the doorman pushed me towards
the two of them. The crowd roared, and I swept myself over to Darren’s side,
suddenly fearful of what was going on in the cage. I didn’t quite understand
what this meant…but it didn’t sound good.

I could hear the referee continuing, but my attention was completely
centered on the two of them. What they were saying sounded
way
more important…and it terrified me. They both paused as the
referee ducked out of the cage and hesitated – before locking it and
turning regretfully towards Sawyer.

“You have
got
to be kidding
me,” Darren continued, his rage only building higher. “If
this guy
is anywhere near Bonesaw’s level…” he pointed towards the
ring, glowering down at Luke, “then you just signed Bonesaw’s fucking death
certificate.”

The buzzer rang out, and the referee boomed: “FIGHT!”

(
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Chapter 18 – Sawyer

Pensacola, Present Day

The buzzer kicked us into gear, and we began to circle one another.
Instead of launching into an immediate brawl, we watched for any weaknesses
– any openings to exploit or missteps to use to our advantage.

This wasn’t going to be a good, clean fight.

It was a duel, and it was going to get ugly.

“Gotta admit,” Jabberjaw chuckled aloud, “
Bonesaw’s
a real clever name. Wish I’d thought of it, myself. Sure
as shit know
you
didn’t come up with
that. Who did?”

“The fans,” I answered as we continued to circle one another, hovering a
few feet away from the fence walls. “First cage-fighting match I was in,
someone in the crowd drunkenly called it out. It caught on. Then they started
chanting my name.”

“Heh, what a story,” Jabberjaw grinned wickedly. “Wonder how high those
beautiful
fans
of yours will carry
you when you’re asleep on the mat? How much blood will I spill before you give
up,
Fucker?
”

“HEY!” We both turned, staring into the dark throng of spectators all
around. “You two
bitches
gonna fight,
or are you gonna just dance around?”

Jabberjaw grinned like a madman. “Suck my cock, you piece of shit!
You’re starin’ at
history in the making,
motherfucka!
This fucker’s an old friend of mine, see? We go WAY
back!”

“I don’t give a flying fuck!” Another voice rang out.

“This ain’t
about
you, you
piece of shit! This is about HIM and ME!” true to his new name, Jabberjaw was
basking in the moment.

I wondered how long he’d waited for this. Who knows how he found me.
When he figured things out, he must have followed me for ages, and my stupid
Twitter account had kept him up to date on how active I was staying, who I was
fighting, and crucially
where
I was.

If he’d been jumping for the chance to strike me in an unsanctioned
bout, then I’d been a complete fool. I had handed him the perfect opportunity
on a silver platter. Announcing my presence would have tipped him, and he would
have understood that was the first time in years that I was fighting in a
back-end cage. Somewhere that might have malleable rules.

Everything my opponent had needed would have fallen into place with
admirable precision.

It wouldn’t have taken him much to track down Luke and sweeten the deal
for him. Everything from volunteering as the opponent and throwing out the
rulebook would have been on the table, given Luke’s equal penchant for
capitalizing on opportunities. And if Jabberjaw had been winning fights for
years and played it smart…it would have been within his means to hop a
same-week flight straight here.

He had already been training in the shadows for years, hoping for a
crack at me in the cage. My enemy came prepared.

Yep. Definitely fucked.

The crowd was starting to boo harder as we watched each other,
constantly moving but never taking the first step. Whoever broke first was
going to lose – but I had a reputation to uphold. This guy came out of
nowhere, as far as the spectators were concerned. If I didn’t make a move soon,
it was going to look like I was just scared of the stranger.

And the smirk on his face told me that he knew it.

Fuck it.

I closed the distance with a powerful swing.

As expected, he easily dodged the blow, weaving away instead of trying
to counterattack. I held my forearms up, and he bounced lightly back and forth
in his stance, fists at the ready but unwilling to launch a jab.

I threw another punch, holding back in strength. He ducked to the side,
pulling backwards with the step. Again, he refused to throw an attack.

Gonna be like, huh?
I thought to
myself.
He’s going to tire me out
first…draw out my humiliation.

I needed to get him to the ground. It was the only way I’d be able to
keep him from darting away like a skittish, impish scamp with every moment. But
the cage wouldn’t let me pin him into a corner, and he wasn’t about to lose the
advantage of space anytime soon.

Jabberjaw was completely focused, eyes locked onto mine. He’d read my
movements and expertly flow around my thrusts. When fatigue finally forced me
to make subtle, tired mistakes, the viper would rise with its fangs at the
ready.

I launched another blow, effortlessly dodged.

One good strike,
I thought to
myself. I need to surprise him.
But how?

It dawned on me – matched in its simplicity only by its stupidity.
I’d been busy analyzing him, studying his motions and looking for an
opening…and it was true that I might spot something. There might be a
desperate, subtle flaw in his fighting style, something to give me the higher
ground. More likely, though, was that I was right – he was going to tire
me out while I paced around, struggling to spot a crucial weakness, and then he
was going to destroy me. I’d been going about it all wrong, trying to figure
him out. All I needed had been obvious to me before the match even started
– I’d assessed him and figured out every detail I required to come out on
top and win the match.

Because that’s not how I lived my life.

I acted on instinct.

It was the way I’d always been, and the only reason I’d made it this
far. Everything from motorcycling to escaping the police raid had been by
watching and simply
reacting.
It was
my strength – never overthinking, only letting my body do the work.

That’s all that I had to do.

I lost myself in the flow, letting go of all my biting frustration and
desperate analysis. A wave of calm overcame me, tempered by anger. I was an
efficient, oiled fighting machine once more, stripped of any brain processes
beyond understanding my current limitations and focusing on the slippery
jackass who faced me.

“That’s right,” he smiled with wide eyes, relishing in whatever he saw
in my emotionless gaze. “
That’s
what
I wanted to see. I know
exactly
what
fighting you looks like – I’ve seen you flatten motherfuckers like
nothing
. I want you fighting me at your
fucking
peak
, man…and when I
annihilate you, Sawyer, I want you to understand that I didn’t need any tricks
to do it.”

“Stop talking,” I commanded. “Fight me.”

“You betcha, shit-stain,” Jabberjaw grinned, bouncing forward with a
strong jab.

I moved out of the way – but it was a clumsy move, weakening my
position. It wasn’t as natural as it should have been, and it left me wide
open. Still…

Jabberjaw landed a fierce fist to my gut, but I was ready to take the
blow. While he came in close, I tried to bop him in the ear with the side of my
fist. He wove out of the way just in time, slipping around to thrust another
jab.

I took that blow too, using my shifting body weight to half step
backwards. Planting my foot with the momentum, I shifted gears forward,
feinting a thrust but bear-hugging his neck instead.

Jabberjaw was caught off-guard. Expecting a blow, he’d been surprised by
my grapple, and began to pummel his fists into my ribs. I braced myself against
the blows and forced him backwards against the cage wall, when he suddenly sank
his teeth into my shoulder, jerking them from side-to-side.

“FUCK!” I snarled, halfway expecting Vinnie to jump to attention. That’s
when I remembered:
no rules.

I slammed him against the cage wall, dislodging his bite. That was going
to sting with every punch, but he’d attacked my lesser shoulder – leaving
my dominant punching hand unhindered during the rest of the bout. I managed a
weak punch to his stomach before he could escape, which was strong enough to
slightly wind him.

Still, the sly little bastard slipped out of my striking range, wiping
the stray blood from his mouth.

“You’re going to resort to
biting?
”
I felt the shoulder with my fingers – it was a little messy, but I could
withstand it.

“I fight practical-like, Fucker.”

“No, you fight
dirty.
”

“Call it what you want.”

The game has changed
, I reminded
myself coolly. With that acknowledgement, I immediately slipped back into my
emotionless persona of the mindless street-fighting machine.

Launching forward with a powerful blow, I watched him sidestep before
landing another strong jab. I took the blow and used the momentum to hurl a
spinning backfist, a move easily dodged as well.

“If I’d known that’s all it took to rile you up,” Jabberjaw laughed,
“I’d have bitten you from the start!”

He skated behind me, and instead of turning, I launched backwards,
tackling him with my back. He dodged out of the way, but not before I grabbed
his shin.

“The fuck you
don’t
,” he
snarled, trying to slip the sweaty limb free, but I dug my fingertips in and
yanked
, drawing him down onto me. As he
toppled down on top of me, I let go of his shin, bracing myself and taking his
weight as he landed across my chest.

The window was brief. For the first time in the match, he was off his
game. I grabbed him around the neck, rolling and dragging his scrambling body
with me. Within seconds, I had him beneath me, my knee in his back, and I
delivered a solid blow straight down to the side of his head.

Unfortunately, it was my weaker arm – the one with a chomp mark in
the shoulder. Not enough to knock him out, but enough to briefly daze him.

He managed to dislodge me, shakily jumping to his feet, and I dove
across the padding for the shin again. Jabberjaw was focused enough to weave a
step backwards, but I had anticipated that. Instead of falling flat on my face,
I shoved my palm downward and propelled myself forward, thrusting my other hand
out and – barely – clasping around his leg again. With a
fierce tug, I yanked him backwards, his head and shoulders slamming into
forgiving fence of the cage wall – but I wasn’t done yet.

I pulled myself up as he kicked his feet along the padding. He was
desperate to catch his sweaty heel against something and force himself back up.
I took the opportunity from him, grasping his sole with another flailing kick
and yanking him towards me.

My opponent landed on the floor at my feet, striking upward between my
legs. But I’d already slipped out of the way, avoiding the game-ending low blow
that would have left me at his mercy. Instead, I swiped my heel into his ribs
with a quick thrust, and he rolled with the momentum. It was enough to cause
him a little pain – just enough to keep him from whipping back up and
dominating.

His eyes were off of me for a moment, and I struck my heel down into his
abdomen as his roll finished. The blow caught him completely off-guard and
winded him, and I dropped onto his head with a powerful elbow bash. He barely
slipped out of the way, but that was fine
 
– I was on the floor with him now, and he expected me to be thrown
off by the miss.

Instead, I instinctively knew how he’d move, and I whipped up my arm to
clothesline him as he attempted to struggle up from the floor. My arm shot
down, carrying him straight down onto his back again, and I pushed up from
above him and kneed him in the abs again. I stayed there, holding him pinned
beneath me, and swung a powerful blow that struck the side of his head. He spat
blood across the mat, reacting just quickly enough with a well-timed fist to
capitalize on the moment.

With a precision strike, he punched me straight in the dick, missing my
balls but still temporarily crippling me. The opening was just enough for my
knee to weaken, and he pulled back, scrambling up to his feet. I shakily
reached my own, and we faced each other down with our fresh injuries.