and I'll let you up.' He stubbornly refused, gritting

his teeth. I sighed, released one of his wrists, slipped

my arm under his neck, and applied a gentle,

incredibly slow Ezekiel choke. I didn't snap it on; I

just slowly increased the pressure, restricting the

blood flow to his brain. It wasn't painful, but the

inescapable sensation of the lights slowly dimming

is the most terrifying feeling in the world for

someone who has never experienced it.

Ten seconds later, the bravado completely

evaporated. Braden's hand slapped the mat in a

frantic, desperate rhythm. *Tap, tap, tap*. I

do to my baby?!' she shrieked, dropping to her knees

beside him. She glared up at me, her face contorted

in absolute fury. 'You animal! You assaulted him! You

tried to kill my son!'

I looked down at her, maintaining a stoic

expression. 'He asked for a fight. He signed a waiver.

I didn't strike him once, Susan. I simply controlled

him and applied a standard submission hold until he

submitted. He is completely unharmed, except for

his pride.'

Susan wasn't listening. She whipped a gold-

encrusted iPhone out of her purse. 'I am calling the

police! I am pressing charges for attempted murder!

You are going to jail, and I am taking this gym from

you!' She dialed 911, screaming into the phone that

her son had been violently attacked by a

professional fighter and was severely injured.

My students began to murmur, some looking

concerned. Dave walked over to me. 'You want me to

lock the doors?' he asked quietly. 'No,' I replied. 'Let

the police come. Pull the security footage from the

main camera. Have it cued up on the iPad. And grab

the waiver.'

For the next ten minutes, we waited. Braden

finally sat up, refusing to look me in the eye, rubbing

his neck and sniffling. Susan paced the mat, hurling

insults at me, my gym, and my students. She

promised ruin, she promised lawsuits, she promised

hellfire. I simply sat on the edge of the boxing ring,

wrapping my hands again, waiting.

Eventually, the flashing blue and red lights

illuminated the frosted glass of the gym's front

windows. Two police officers entered the gym, their

hands resting casually on their utility belts. They

surveyed the scene: a gym full of muscular, tattooed

fighters, a screaming woman in designer clothes,

and a crying teenager on the mat.

One of the officers, a burly guy with a shaved

head, stepped forward. I recognized him instantly. It

agreed to an exhibition match. His mother signed a

full-contact liability waiver.'

I gestured to Dave, who handed the clipboard

to Higgins. Higgins briefly reviewed the document,

noting Susan's signature. 'Furthermore,' I continued,

'I never threw a single strike. I evaded his attacks,

took him down, and applied a submission hold until

he tapped out. He is uninjured.'

Susan was apoplectic. 'He's lying! He choked

him! He tried to snap his neck! Arrest him!'