structure of a nose that had been broken and reset half a dozen times. This wasn't the
body of a man who scrubbed floors; it was the canvas of a man who had survived wars
in places none of these boys had ever seen.
Chapter 5: Stepping into the Cage
Julian’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but his arrogance quickly smothered
his doubt. "Nice scars, old man," he sneered. "What, fall off your lawnmower?"
Arthur didn't reply. He walked past Julian, his gait suddenly different. The stoop was
gone. He moved with a feline grace, a terrifying economy of motion. He stepped through
the door of the cage, barefoot, wearing only his faded canvas work trousers. He walked
to the center of the mat and stood perfectly still, his hands resting loosely at his sides. He
didn't stretch; he didn't bounce. He simply waited.
Julian, eager to regain the crowd's adulation, jogged into the cage, shadowboxing
aggressively, throwing flashy high kicks to demonstrate his flexibility. He wore top-of-the-
line MMA gloves and custom-made shorts. He looked like a superhero; Arthur looked like
a man waiting for a bus.
"Ready to get dusted, pops?" Julian taunted, biting down on his mouthpiece. Arthur’s
eyes, previously dull and averted, were now locked onto Julian. They were the eyes of a
predator analyzing prey. Cold. Calculating. Empty of emotion.