Chapter 19: David And Goliath II

Damon's fingers screamed in protest as he clung to the fence, his MMA gloves too bulky to fit through the narrow openings.

His grip was tenuous at best, his fingers straining to maintain their hold. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but he forced himself to calm down, to think clearly.

He gazed straight at Matt, who was trying to avoid his flailing foot while still holding onto the other leg.

Damon's eyes locked onto Matt's, his focus intensifying. He realized that his wild kicking was getting him nowhere, so he changed tactics.

With a sudden burst of strength, Damon pulled the leg that Matt was holding. Matt didn't expect the move, and his grip faltered for a split second.

Damon seized the opportunity, pulling his free leg back and unleashing a powerful kick. His heel shot forward, connecting with a sickening crunch on the bridge of Matt's nose.

The impact sent a shockwave through the air, the sound of the kick echoing off the surrounding fences. Matt's head snapped back, his eyes widening in surprise and pain.

Damon's leg rebounded from the kick, his foot tingling from the force of the impact. He hung there, suspended by his fingers, his chest heaving with exertion.

The crowd's cheers and chants grew louder, their voices a deafening roar in Damon's ears.

Matt released Damon's leg, stumbling backward as his eyes widened in shock. Damon let go of the fence, his fingers leaving behind deep indentations in the metal.

The marks were proof to the desperation of his grip, the ridges of the fence etched into his skin like a temporary tattoo.

Matt's voice echoed through the air, a loud, anguished "Fuck!" that sent a ripple through the crowd. He dropped to his knees, his hands grasping for his nose as if trying to stem the flow of blood.

Damon watched, his eyes fixed on Matt's face, as he touched his nose and then looked at his hand in horror.

The blood was a deep, rich red, glistening in the light. It dripped down Matt's chin, onto his chest, and onto the ground, forming a small puddle that seemed to spread with an eerie slowness.

The crowd took a collective step back, their voices dying down as they took in the scene before them.

Damon saw his chance, his mind racing with the possibilities. He could press his advantage, try to finish the fight with a flourish. Or he could play it safe, try to wear Matt down with careful, precise strikes. The choice was his, and his alone.

Damon cursed under his breath, "Fuck it," as he charged forward, closing the distance between him and Matt. But in that moment of hesitation, Matt had managed to regain his footing, his eyes blazing with determination as he stood up.

Damon's eyes widened in panic as he saw Matt rise, his mind racing with the sudden change in circumstances. He stared at Matt's legs, his face hardening as he focused on his target.

With a fierce battle cry, Damon launched himself at Matt, his legs pumping furiously as he built up momentum. His foot connected with Matt's inner thigh, the impact sending a shockwave through the air.

The sound of the kick was like a loud crack, the force of it causing Matt to lose his footing once again. He let out a quiet, short scream, his voice strained as he struggled to maintain his balance.

Matt's leg slid out from under him, his body stretching into an involuntary lunge. Damon saw another chance, his eyes locking onto Matt's exposed head.

He quickly took a step back, his weight transferring onto his back leg as he loaded up for the kick.

The crowd held its collective breath, their voices whispering in anticipation. "Wait, is he going to kick his head?" someone whispered, the words hanging in the air like a challenge.

Damon's face was a mask of focus, his eyes blazing with intensity. He threw the kick with every ounce of strength he had, his foot connecting with Matt's temple in a sickening crunch.

The sound of the kick was like a loud crack, the impact sending a shockwave through the air. Matt's head snapped to the side, his eyes rolling back in his head as he crumpled to the ground. The crowd erupted into chaos, their voices screaming in a mix of horror and excitement.

Damon stood over Matt, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes fixed on his opponent's prone form.

Damon felt the primal urge to mount Matt and unleash a flurry of punches, to continue the punishment until his opponent was nothing more than a battered, broken shell. But just as he was about to act on his instincts, he felt a hand grasp his shoulder, pulling him back.

"Whoa, he's down, dude, stop!" a voice shouted in his ear.

Damon turned to see a random guy, his face a blur, his words a distant echo. He nodded, his breathing slowing, as he hit shoulders with the guy in a gesture of acknowledgement.

As he stepped out of the cage, Damon's eyes scanned the crowd, his mind still reeling from the adrenaline-fueled fight. Joey approached him, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Damn, man, I didn't know you could fight like that!" Joey exclaimed, patting Damon's back. "Last week, you got your ass handed to you. Now you're kicking one!"

Joey's words were a distant hum, a background noise that barely registered in Damon's mind. His thoughts were still consumed by the fight, his body craving more. He wanted to hurt more of them, to feel the rush of power and control that came with victory.

Damon's eyes narrowed, his gaze scanning the crowd for his next opponent. His heart still raced, his fists still clenched, as he walked away from the cage, ready to take on the next challenger.

As Damon walked towards the bench, his eyes fixed on the row of seats, the people sitting there suddenly shifted uncomfortably, their bodies tensing as they gazed up at him.

They exchanged nervous glances, their faces pale, before quickly scrambling to move out of his way.

The bench creaked as they hastily vacated their seats, their footsteps echoing through the air as they distanced themselves from Damon.

The sound of their murmured conversations and shuffling feet filled the space, a symphony of avoidance.

Damon's gaze swept across the now-empty bench, his eyes lingering on the vacant seats before he finally sat down.