His voice was barely a whisper. It was calm. It was chillingly calm. It sounded like gravel being crushed under a heavy tire. Darius laughed.
It was a nervous jagged sound. He bit down on his bright red mouthpiece. "Oh, so the bag holder wants to go. " "Fine by me bro. Let's see what you got. 5 minutes.
Submission or striking? " "Just striking. " Cole said softly. Greg hurried forward holding his hands up. "Guys come on. No. " "Darius back off. Cole just let it go.
We don't do this here. " Arthur put a hand on Greg's shoulder. The old veteran looked at the gym owner his eyes dark. "Let him go Greg. " Arthur said quietly. Call time. Greg looked at Arthur, then looked at Cole.
A cold shiver ran down the gym owner's spine. He suddenly realized he had absolutely zero control over what was about to happen. He slowly backed away, pulling his stopwatch from his pocket. Darius banged his padded gloves together, hopping from foot to foot. He was smiling.
He thought he was about to beat up a quiet, unassuming pad holder. He thought he was about to reestablish his dominance. He had no idea he had just locked himself in a cage with a monster. Time, Greg called out, his voice cracking slightly. Darius wasted zero seconds.
He surged forward, relying on the same tactic that had terrified the college kid and the hobbyist for months. Pure, overwhelming forward pressure. He closed the distance in two massive strides, loading up his right shoulder and throwing a wild, looping overhand right aimed directly at Cole's jaw. It was a punch meant to end a fight instantly. Cole didn't flinch.
He didn't even raise his hands to a traditional guard. As the massive gloved fist hurtled toward his face, Cole simply tilted his head 2 inches to the left. The overhand right sliced through the empty air where Cole's head had been a fraction of a second before. The sheer momentum of the missed punch pulled Darius slightly off balance, exposing his ribs. Cole didn't counter with a punch.
He stepped inside Darius's guard, his left foot sliding smoothly behind Darius's lead leg. With an open palm, Cole struck Darius sharply in the center of the chest. It wasn't a haymaker. It was a precise, structural disruption. Coupled with the foot trap, the palm strike sent Darius stumbling backward.
He flailed his arms, barely catching his balance before he hit the mat. A murmur rippled through the gym. It was casual, effortless. Darius's face flushed crimson. The smirk vanished, replaced by a snarling primal anger.
He felt foolish. He charged again, this time throwing a barrage of punches, a left hook, a straight right, another left hook. Cole dismantled the combination with terrifying mechanical efficiency. He parried the left hook with a flick of his wrist. He slipped the straight right, stepping off the center line.
He caught the second left hook on his forearm, instantly absorbing the kinetic energy. Darius was breathing heavily now, the hissing sound through his nose growing frantic. He was throwing with everything he had, burning oxygen at a rapid rate. Cole hadn't even started breathing through his mouth yet. His face was a mask of utter boredom.
"Fight back, you coward! " Darius screamed, spraying saliva over his mouthpiece. He threw a heavy leg kick, the same one that had dropped Toby. Cole finally went on the offensive. He didn't check the kick. Instead, he stepped into it.
As Darius's shin swung upward, Cole drove his own knee directly into the heavy muscle of Darius's thigh, intersecting the kick before it could generate full power. The impact sounded like a car door slamming shut. Darius let out a strangled cry, his leg immediately going numb as the nerve was crushed against the femur. He staggered, his hands dropping instinctively to his injured leg. That was the opening.
Cole moved with a speed that defied his dense frame. He stepped in, completely closing the distance. He didn't aim for the head. He wasn't trying to knock Darius out. A knockout was too fast.
A knockout allowed the brain to shut off and escape the lesson. Cole wanted Darius fully awake. Cole drove a short, brutal liver shot directly under Darius's floating rib. It wasn't a sweeping cinematic punch. It was a 6-inch pivot of the hips, transferring 200 lbs of dense muscle into a square inch of space.
Darius's eyes bulged. All the air violently evacuated his lungs in a wet gasp. His brain sent an immediate, non-negotiable signal to his body. Shut down. Protect the organs.
Darius crumpled forward, his knees buckling. But before he could hit the mat, Cole grabbed him. Cole snaked his left arm around the back of Darius's neck, securing a tight, vise-like collar tie. With his right hand, he gripped Darius's left triceps. He had the larger man trapped in a standing clinch, bent over at the waist.
Darius was suffocating, his mouth gaping open as he tried desperately to draw oxygen back into his paralyzed diaphragm. He reached up blindly, trying to grab Cole's waist, trying to initiate a wrestling scramble. Cole punished the attempt instantly. He shifted his weight, using the collar tie to violently snap Darius's head down, while sweeping Darius's remaining good leg. Darius went airborne for a fraction of a second before slamming face-first into the blue mats.
The impact rattled the floorboards. Before Darius could even process the fall, Cole was on top of him. This wasn't Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. This wasn't a sport grappling exchange designed to score points. This was combat control.
Cole bypassed the guard entirely, dropping his entire body weight heavily across Darius's chest in a modified side control position. But it was the pressure that broke Darius. Cole didn't just lay on him. He actively drove his shoulder directly into the soft tissue of Darius's jawline, turning Darius's head sharply to the side. He dug the blades of his hips into Darius's floating ribs.
He made himself feel like a thousand pounds of lead. Darius thrashed. He kicked his legs, bucked his hips, and tried to bench press Cole off him. It was completely useless. Pushing against Cole was like trying to push a concrete pillar.