like spearmint gum and raw adrenaline. "I hit hard. I'm not
going to go easy on you just because you got dirt on your
jeans."
Big Eli slowly reached down and untied his work
boots. He pulled them off, placing them neatly
outside the ring. He peeled off his thick wool socks next.
His large, bare feet stepped onto the mats, scarred with
thick calluses built up from decades of hard living.
"Just ring the bell, Trent," Big Eli said.
Rusty chopped his hand down. Trent closed the distance
instantly. Disrespecting his opponent meant he didn't
bother with a feeler jab. He threw a heavy, looping
overhand right, aiming to end it in three seconds.
Big Eli didn't slip with the graceful fluidity of a boxer. He
simply hunched his massive shoulders and tucked his chin
—a brutal, pragmatic movement. Trent’s fist crashed into
Big Eli’s forehead, the thickest, hardest bone in the human
skull.
A sickening crack echoed. Trent winced, stumbling back a
half-step, shaking his right hand. He had aimed for the jaw
and hit solid bone. Big Eli felt a flash of white light behind