Not much of a fight, to Wolf’s mind, but a win was a win and Glass was on a hot streak.
Wolf was gunning to end it tonight. He grinned to himself as the other guy finally gave up and tapped out. Glass was a brute, but he had no real skill in the cage, just sheer strength. His winning streak had given him arrogance, and he’d been boasting all week ‘bout how he could take anyone, anywhere, anytime. Since he was bringing the club a cut of his winnings, nobody had bothered to correct him yet.
Wolf cracked his knuckles as the ref raised Glass's hand. The crowd roared as the loser limped away, blood dripping from his mouth. The sight stirred something dark in Wolf, turned the desire to fight into a full-blown need. Get in the cage, pound the shit out of Glass, or anyone else stupid enough to take him on. Break some bones, crack some skulls. Unleash the beast.
He pushed through the crowd until he was right at the front, close enough to hear Glass trash-talking to the ref. "Wherever, whenever, I'm telling ya. Nobody in this damn town even comes close..."
Wolf stepped up to the cage, grabbed the mesh and rattled it, letting loose a long, loud howl. Glass jumped, then glowered at him. "Wherever, whenever?" Wolf asked. "How about right here, right now with me, rookie?"
Glass sneered down at him. “Feeling lucky, punk?”
“Don’t need luck against you.” Wolf came round to the door of the cage, catching the eye of the MC President as he did. Nash lounged against the back wall of the barn, a beer in one hand and a joint in the other. He was flanked by Judge, the MC Vice-President, and Judge’s old lady, Roxy. The three of them were never far apart, and even among the crush of people around them, they gave off an air of impenetrability. Solid, unreachable. On another night, Wolf would want to crack them open, see what they were locking away.
Not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to punch the smirk off Glass’s face, and Nash gave him the nod as he entered the cage. It was a silent signal that Wolf could let loose.
It wasn’t like he had a problem with Glass, apart from being sick of his bragging. The guy was a good prospect and had a big love for the club. But some days… Some days a man just needed to fight. For Wolf, those days came maybe a little too often.
The crowd roared as Wolf clapped the ref on the shoulder and squared up to Glass. The bigger man rolled his neck and balled his hands up, holding them at chest-height. Amateur mistake, leaving his face wide open. “Ready when you are, punk.”
Wolf eyed him up as he took off his boots. Wolf was often smaller than his opponents; it never bothered him. He’d had plenty of time to study Glass’s moves, and he hadn’t been impressed. Size and strength were all good if you knew what to do with them, but Glass wasn’t a creative fighter. “Call it,” he told the ref.
The ref raised his arm and bellowed, “Fight!” The crowd erupted again, their bloodlust thick in the air. Glass swung at Wolf, his meaty fist aiming straight for Wolf’s face.
Light on his feet, Wolf ducked inside his guard and rammed his fists into Glass’s kidneys with a one-two blow. While Glass wheezed, Wolf danced away again and kicked out, connecting hard with Glass’s shin. A hot red welt flared up on Glass’s skin and while he reeled from that, Wolf landed another kick on his other leg. The faster he got Glass off his feet, the faster he’d win.
Glass recovered his balance and swung at Wolf again. The blow clipped Wolf’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off and went in for another flurry of kicks. Glass had no formal training or background in MMA, unlike Wolf, and he didn’t know how to defend himself. All he knew was stand-up boxing and a couple of sloppy submission holds. That had done him fine so far against guys who just knew how to bang. Wolf had training in striking, grappling, and ground, the holy trinity for a good MMA fighter. He had an answer for every one of Glass’s moves, and it didn’t take long for the big man to get frustrated.
When Wolf broke away from him, Glass roared and charged like a bull, dropping his head. Wolf lunged forward, driving his knee up and connected solidly with Glass’s face. He couldn’t hear much over the crowd, but he felt the impact rattle all the way through his body, felt the splatter of blood, and knew he’d broken Glass’s nose.
Glass staggered back, eyes glazed, and Wolf rushed in with an uppercut. Glass went to his knees with a grunt. Wolf darted behind him and jumped on his back, forcing him face down to the mat. Wolf hooked his feet around Glass’s massive thighs and wrapped his arm around his neck, slipping him into a rear-naked choke with practiced ease. Feeling the hold locked in, he clasped his hands together and squeezed.
To give Glass his due, he held out longer than most would, trying to twist and throw Wolf off. But the knee to his face and the uppercut had rocked him too hard, and Wolf could feel the fight slipping out of him. The crowd exploded when he finally tapped out. Wolf released him and helped him to his feet. Glass’s face was a mask of blood and his nose was smashed. He wiped some of the blood away and gave Wolf a look that was half anger, half resignation.
“Guess I’m not gonna be so pretty no more,” he said, voice muffled and nasal.
Wolf grinned. “Get yourself to a doctor and when you’re patched up, I’ll show you some real moves.”