Then I play again, throwing a combination, jab, cross, finishing with a sloppy low kick. I do not kick at full power. I have no desire to smash bone against bone. That takes forever to heal.
To my surprise, my shin sinks into his thigh. What the hell? That kick was visible from a mile away. A fighter like Gabriel should have blocked it without effort.
I catch a brief grimace of pain on his face.
He counters with a wide haymaker, the kind of technique you’d see in a redneck bar brawl. It is so bizarre for someone of his level! Fine, I will gladly eat that punch. Bring it on. He hitsmy cheek, but so weakly that if I went down from it, everyone would know the fight was thrown. Anzo most of all.
I glance toward the VIP box.
Rocco and Anzo are watching from there, but between the sweat and the glare of the lights around the cage, I can barely make them out.
The pattern always looks the same. I lose, then I train for a few months. Then I get another fight. Usually I have to win the first one, sometimes even the second, but then I drop two or three in a row.
And Anzo loses interest, disappointed in me.
Sometimes I even get half a year of peace! That is how Ennio designed it for me, and I am grateful. It is simply a lesser evil.
And right now I am in one of the fights I am supposed to lose, because I won the previous two.
But Gabriel refuses to let me lose.
The bastard won’t take advantage of my distraction.
What is this supposed to be? Are we both trying to tank this? I have seen Gabriel fight. I know what he is capable of.
Screw it! I go all in. I start windmilling and rush him with a combination, like a total amateur. Shoulders low, chin high, an easy target. Let it look like his punch enraged me. I have done that plenty of times in my lost fights, so it will not hurt my reputation.
My punches have almost no power. My arms swing on momentum alone. There’s no snap, no intent. If I go down from a punch now, no one will question it. I’ll have just run into it, and my own overt enthusiasm will do the rest.
And yet, somehow, my pathetic charge pushes Gabriel back into the cage fence. He covers up with a double guard, but poorly. My punches thud into his forearms until one finally slips through near his jaw.
I clip him with mythumb, weakening the blow even further. And suddenly… the bastard goes down, not without obvious theatrics!
What the fuck?
The show is for the crowd, not for me. He slides down the fence in slow motion and collapses, limp.
I stare, gaping in disbelief, as he hits the mat.
That punch was barely a committed hook, more of a feint, yet Gabriel dropped like a sack of potatoes. I curse under my breath, but I cannot show disappointment. So I raise my fists, putting on a confident face.
Sweat runs down my forehead, stinging my eyes with its salt. I can barely make out the blurred shape of my trainer, Gurco, waving a towel. Of course, he’s celebrating. He doesn’t know the plan; he trains all my brothers, and not all of them can be trusted. Only Ennio, Mauro, and my sparring partner know about it.
My older brothers, Rocco and Luka, have no idea I am doing everything I can to get out of this cursed cage fighter life.
I circle Gabriel’s motionless body as the referee leans over him, spreading his hands in a gesture that says the fight is over. Then he grabs my arm and raises it. My last name flashes on the board as the winner.
Looking at it, I feel something inside me crack. I just beat a title contender, which instantly boosts my standing and pushes me up the rankings and into the grinder of future fights.
And the fight for the championship belt in my weight class is now just around the corner.
To hell with all of it.
What went wrong? Why did Gabriel go down?
To the roar of an overheated crowd, I step out of the cage, fists still raised like I am ecstatic about it. I wave atthe rows of screaming faces, but I barely see them. Anger and disappointment drown everything else out.
I push through the crowd backstage, leaving Gurco behind, moving past dozens of hands reaching out to me. I give high fives and exchange handshakes, my smile as false as a mask, teeth dry and bared, and inside there is nothing but anger.
