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“Had him?” Fiona screamed again, helping Robert by holding the ice so that he could attend the blood from the nostrils better. “That isn’t enough, Gaz. Come on! You do that again, the ref will stop it. I swear I saw him move his hand. You came this close. Focus! Congratulations. You survived to the second round. Now he’s really pissed off. This is going to become a street fight. Don’t let him get near you. He’s going to want to get you on the ground. He’s favouring his punches, so use your legs to keep stinging him and keep your distance.”
“Stay away from that fucking right hand,” Robert said, removing the blood soaked tampon. “If it is broken, it’ll be numb now, and he won’t care if he hits the cage. He won’t feel shit.”
A new bell sounded, and Owen rose to his feet. He let out a breath and saw flecks of blood from it hit his gloves. He put that out of his mind as he put his hands up, waiting for the snarling form opposite him to approach. Keep the distance... keep the distance. Win on points if you have to, but don’t let him get close... keep moving.
“Both fighters content to take their time it seems, measuring, cocking. Waiting for the right moment. THERE IT IS! The champ struck first but blocked by Gasnier, who immediately responds with a leg kick. Then another.”
“These are just taps, John. No real power. They might be used to keep him at bay… ah, but there! The champ came forward and was met with a beautiful straight punch by Gasnier.”
“Very smart, that. Very smart.”
“The champ is looking frustrated here. Don’t forget, no one has gone the distance with either of these two, so we will see how much stamina they have to keep this up.”
“Great point, John. Here comes Diaz again, lunging for Gasnier and the champ got PINGED AGAIN by a right hook. Damn he’s quick! BUT OH! A ROCKING counter by the champ hits Gasnier flush on the cheek. Gasnier stumbles... and the CHAMP pounces! Diaz wrestles him to the ground! Oh boy! Gasnier, for the first time in his career, is OFF HIS FEET! The champ is HAMMERING away at Gasnier’s forearm block. The challenger is just trying to take all he can at this point.”
Owen heard Fiona scream “No!” a second before he got hit. He fucked up. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see that punch. Now, on his back, he had Diaz on top of him, laying into him with everything he had. His hulking bodyweight pressed Owen further down into the mat, preventing any real movement. All Owen could do was block his face. Diaz reached back and sank heavy fists into Owen’s unprotected ribs. Owen could’ve screamed at both the pain and the frustration. Unable to move, except for being hit, jerking from the pain. He couldn’t breathe with the weight on top of him. His mouth was filling with blood, and he was coughing it out under Diaz’ frame. If the ref saw it, the match would be stopped.
Diaz drove the point of his elbow into Owen’s forehead, directly into the wound Robert had tried to help. While still hitting Owen’s ribs, with his other arm, he rolled his elbow across Owen’s hairline, the blood oozing and then flowing from the tactic. A deliberate gesture to make him bleed from the head.
Owen had no choice. He let Diaz continue as he shifted his neck and head, the only things he could somewhat move, and this opened Diaz’ legs just a touch . Owen brought his knee up hard into Diaz’ thigh. Diaz groaned and gnashed his teeth, allowing Owen to take a small hint of an advantage. He pressed Diaz up with one hand, and a second later Owen’s elbow cracked just under Diaz’ eye. And again before he could roll away.
“Gasnier broke free! He’s still in this! The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief!”
“Look at these two, would you? The best in the business and they look like they’ve been in a war. Which is exactly what fight fans have been treated to as round two comes to a close.”
Robert helped Owen find his seat, thankfully. Owen was too exhausted to even think straight. “Jesus, that was lucky,” Robert whispered, prepping more ice.
“OK, what’s happening?” Fiona asked.
“He’s too strong...” Owen wheezed. “Nothing I do fazes him... I... I can’t...” Owen coughed and a splatter of blood hit Fiona on the chest. Over her shoulder, Owen saw the ref had started to head over with the stock standard ‘this is the final round’ reminder. As if they didn’t know. Fiona met Owen’s eyes. If the ref saw what just happened, he’d call it right there.
Fiona must’ve seen the desperation in Owen’s eyes. She knew the ref was coming. Robert was frantically trying to fix the blood flow and damage Diaz had done to his head. Robert hadn’t seen it. Bleeding from the mouth meant bleeding inside.
“Please...” Owen whispered, “I gotta go out on my feet, not like this... not by a ref.”
Fiona glanced quickly at Robert. “Oh... fuck it.” She leaned forward and kissed Owen, placing her hands on either side of his head. Owen waited for a few seconds before opening an eye, looking over her shoulder. The ref gave a roll of the eyes and turned back. Owen pulled back and eyed Fiona, thanking her as she used her thumb to clear the redness from his lips.
“Thinking on your feet, huh?” he asked.
“Whatever. You’ve got one more round, you hear me? This is where it’s at. Last round. Where we wanted him, right? Forget the distance kicks. You cut him with that last elbow. You cut him! You’ve got a target. You punch and punch until that fucker’s face caves in. You won’t win on points... bury him!”
“Straight rights. Left hooks,” Robert added. “Don’t let that bastard breathe. Don’t give him a straight line of attack. Keep circling to his inside shoulder.”
Owen rose but he found his back weak, his legs burning with enough pain to make him scream, and his arms could barely lift.
“Gaz...”
He heard Fiona as the crowd swelled yet again with a new rendition ofLoch Lomond. Right now it appeared the entire building was at a concert, such was the level of singing. It wasn’t loud or particularly boisterous. Instead it had a level of meaning to it that came quickly to Owen: the people were trying to collectively inspire him. “Fiona... it’s great but that only works in the movies.”
Fiona pressed against him, giving him what looked like a hug and whispered in his ear, “Turn around, Gaz. Look behind you.”
Owen did, directly into the sea of people. It didn’t take too long, though, for him to find what she wanted him to see. Tegan stood among the crowd, singing and clapping with the best of them. The scarf around her head was the colours of his trunks. Fear prickled into Owen’s head. How long had she been there? What if she had another attack? The fear, though, didn't distract him. It galvanised him.
After catching Tegan’s eye and seeing her tearful smile as she held the red V medallion he had given her all those months ago aloft, he mouthed the words, “I love you.” She faced uncertainty even showing up. Her heart had given her trouble where fighting was concerned, but she was here because she believed in him. Nothing else mattered in that moment.
Owen faced Fiona again, finding her eyes also shining with tears. Robert, the man who barely showed any emotions whatsoever, gave him a little wink. He and the girls had obviously planned this.
The bell sounded and once again the ring cleared quickly, but Owen held on to Fiona in a last hug as a silent thank you. Fiona took a step out of the ring and suddenly yelled, “Your girl won her fight. Now, it’s your turn. Finish this cunt, Gaz. Do it, now!”
