Before Jurassic World

Chapter 9

As far as bad idea's go I didn't think this one even made my top 10.   By the way Owen was taping my knuckles and throwing on my MMA style grappling gloves it ranked somewhat higher on his.

"Do you have any self-preservation instincts?" Owen spit at me, stepping back as I flexed my fingers in the gloves a few times, bouncing up and down on my toes to get loose.

"Not really."

"That guy is unhinged and has about 60 pounds on you."

True.  "If this is your idea of a pep talk I gotta tell you, it needs work."

Owen grabbed me by my shoulders almost shaking me.  "Goddamnit Jo, this isn't a joke."

I shook out of Owen's hold, narrowing my eyes.  "I know this isn't a joke.  That guy is batshit crazy, believe me, I know.  He shouldn't even be on this island, but I can handle myself."

Hamada jogged up, glancing back and forth between us.  "Jo, you don't have to do this.  I'm pretty sure with Rogers' behavior today I have enough of finally give him his walking papers."

"Not you too Hamada.  Does anyone think I can win this fight?" I asked both of them, throwing my arms in the air.  "You aren't giving this guy his walking paper's Hamada, I am.  I don't care what goes down, don't' stop this fight," I said with venom in my voice, pointing at him as I walked towards the center of the mat.

Cole was already there bouncing around like a teenager who forgot to take his Ritalin.  What a stereotypical jackass.  The remaining men had formed a circle around the outside of the mat making this whole thing a little too Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome than was probably necessary.  I even heard people placing bets.

Hamada stood between Cole and I vaguely outlining the "rules" for this little endeavor.  I'm pretty sure the only real rule was no killing.  Hamada stepped back off the mat essentially giving us the go ahead, and Cole immediately charged me like a raging bull.  He reared his right hand back intending to deliver a punishing knockout blow to the side of my head.  I quickly ducked under his attempt, stepping to the side, slamming my fist into his kidney as he passed.

He pivoted around, turning to face me with murder in his eyes before coming at me again.  The guy had no technique and had clearly watched too much UFC, but he was pissed.  He unleashed a barrage of sloppy lefts and rights that I dodged and countered connecting with his face and body.  Cole had the edge on me in sheer strength, but fighting had little to do with strength.  The stress of carrying his massive frame around the mat attempting to kill  me was tiring him out.  I danced around him, avoiding his strikes, forcing him to chase me.  I knew I was quicker, in better shape, and had more skill, but I didn't want him landing a lucky punch and taking me down.  Even a blind hog can find a root now and then.

I knew fatigue was setting in when his hands dropped lower and lower from a defensible position, exposing his face to attack.  Still, I waited.  Continuing to dance around him, coming close enough to pummel him only to slip away before he could retaliate.  It was an intricate dance I was intimately familiar with, and I knew I had the upper hand.  I was enjoying myself at this point.  Cole was a complete asshole and needed to be brought down a notch or two. 

I waited until his hands slipped down to chest height before I dashed towards him, letting loose two quick, left handed jabs to his midsection.  He made an instinctive move to protect his body, dropping his hands down even lower from his face.  Wrong move Sonny.  I reared back, using all my strength as I swung my right fist, delivering a wicked uppercut that sent him stumbling back.  Dazed, he tripped, falling onto his ass then his back with a whack.