Breaking Beast (Pounding Hearts 4)

Turning back to face Rocko, I grin and he gives me one right back. Oh yeah, he’s wanting to go at it as badly as I am.

Standing away from each other, we wait the long seconds before the cage ref raises his hand to us both. “Are you ready?”

Nodding our heads, he says, “Let’s go!”

Trotting out to the center of the ring, I lift my hand up to tap it against Rocko’s. It’s going to be the only sign of goodwill until the fight is done.

Taking two steps back, we begin to do the one thing every fight begins with, we start a slow circle. We’re waiting for the true start of the fight. The time when one of us commits and makes the first move.

I make a feint with a quick leg kick before throwing my weight behind a right-handed punch. The kick makes a thwacking sound and I pull back from his punch before it lands.

Dodging to my right, I’m not fast enough to avoid a kick of his that lands on my calf.

Pulling back from him, I circle to my left.

I want to set the pace from the start. I don’t want him comfortable with just sitting back. I will not leave this shit to the judges.

It’s gonna be a fight to the submission or knockout.

Driving into his standing guard, I lunge forward with a hard left hand before my right dives down into his ribs. I connect with the left on his forearm as he blocks it, but my right and much stronger hand connects solidly with his ribs.

Another left, this time low, then I kick at his leg again.

Reaching forward, he tries to lunge at me. He wants me to get down on the mat with him, to work it out.

Fuck that shit, I like standing.

Sprawling out both of my legs, I stop his takedown. I try to knee his face in this position as I push him towards the mat but I only manage a glancing blow to the cheek.

Backing up, I’m preparing to dive after him if I need to, but he isn’t going to go too low. Backing up some more, I let him get to a more level stance before I rush in with a flurry of punches.

I don’t throw all my weight behind the punches. I’m just trying to soften him up. If I went for all haymakers now, I would be wearing myself out way too quickly.

Each blow connects somewhere, though, and when he clenches in, I see a bright spot of red before he lashes an elbow out of nowhere, hitting me squarely in the cheek.

My knees start pumping upwards, towards his chest, as I feel myself backed against the chain cage around us.

That blow rattled me, but it’s good because now I know he plans to fuck me up too. It’s going to be my motivation to make sure I hurt him more than he hurts me.

I slip my leg between his. Twisting my hips, I toss us both to the ground and try to land my hip on his stomach. I want to snatch his breath away if I can. It will suck for him and give me the advantage.

Partially succeeding, I land in a side guard where I can start working my feet over to the cage as I keep working fists into his face.

He’s shocked but not enough.

He hits my cheeks and eyes with hard blows.

Pushing my face down into his face, I try to lift up enough to hit him with quick elbows. I connect each time but not fully.

We slow down our pace then as we try to work for a better position.

“Stand up!” the ref yells, putting a hand between us.

Pulling back, I glance quickly at the clock. We have a minute left of round one.

“What the hell?”

“You guys weren’t working it. On your feet.”

“Bullshit.” I mutter but make sure it’s only to myself. I don’t need to get docked a point.

We are pushed back to our corners before the ref looks at us both and says, “Let’s go!”

Rocko shakes his head, he must have had the same thoughts I did.

We start a fast circle before I run in for a flying kick aimed at his ribs.

I get blocked but Rocko winces in pain. He may have had an arm between my foot and his ribs, but it still hurt him.

Unleashing a roar of frustration, I find myself chasing after him, trying to get him to engage. He’s dodging me a lot, though that kick has him winded.

I hear the loud chopping block that signifies fifteen seconds when I finally get him against the cage.

We both start throwing haymakers at each other.

His hands are like lead bricks as they slam into my face and ribs, but I don’t stop throwing my hands as hard as I can.