He walks down the isle flexing his rippling muscles and bulging
veins beneath leathered skin. A bit clichéd for my taste, but theatrics never
hurts in a fight. They often provide the psychological advantage to turn defeat
into victory.
The Wandering Koala remains planted at the end of the aisle,
his hands both hanging at his side. He gives no indication of his next move.
Risky, but clever. And a great improvement from the last time I faced him. Back
then he broadcast every move long before he made it making it easy to prepare a
counterattack. But he appears to be much quicker and more lithe now. He can
afford to take the gamble. And it forces his opponent to react to his lead.
Derek stops inches away from his foe in a forward stance. I
wouldn’t be surprised if Kyle can feel his breathe. They stare into each other’s
eyes. Are they waiting for the other to make the first move? No, Derek cocks
his arm back slowly, deliberately announcing his next move.
Kyle doesn’t twitch an eyebrow.
Derek steps into the punch throwing the entire weight of his
body behind it.
Kyle’s hand stops the punch two inches from his face. The
whole car can fell the smack, but there isn’t even a hint of pain in his eyes.
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