“Thank you. For everything.”
They broke apart, and Fiona wiped stray tears away. “Sorry. I just never thought I’d ever get to experience this with you. I should be thanking you.”
All in the room looked up to the ceiling as the ring MC made his introduction to the crowd, presenting the main event of the evening.
It was time.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Just listen to the crowd as the challenger makes his way to the Cage. Yet again, it doesn’t look like it phases him. I think you could have a point though, John, with respects to this parochial crowd giving him a boost. How is he looking to you?”
“He’s looking fit. He’s looking focused, but we’ll see how that aims up when he’s one-on-one with the best fighter in the world. As they say, everyone has a plan until they’ve been hit.”
“Speaking of the champion, here he is, making his way down. You know one thing I’ve noticed, John, these athletes don’t sport the usual enthusiastic entrances. Even now, you can see Diaz almost stalking forward. He and Owen Gasnier have not stopped glaring at each other as he approaches. Boy, oh, boy! This is going to be good.”
Owen stared at Diaz for a long time as the ring cleared of press, and the maintenance guys tidied up after the camera crew. Then they were alone with the referee, getting their instructions. The same ones told at the beginning of every fight. Owen paid the official the respect he deserved but locked eyes on the hulking mass in front of him just before they retreated to their corners. They were seconds away. The official countdown had begun.
“Remember,” Fiona called from outside the fence, curling her fingers into the gaps. “No one has lasted one round with him for a reason. He’s going to want to end it quick. Be smart! Use the fence! Move!”
Owen walked forward to about two feet away from Diaz, both fighters in front of the ref. “I’m gonna kick your ass,” Diaz said slowly as he got into stance. The ref raised his hand then dropped it as the bell sounded. The fight was on.
“WHOA! Big Superman punch unleashed by Diaz right from the start! It only just missed Gasnier’s head!”
“We are talking millimetres there!”
“Both fighters, circling each other, measuring... Oh, big swing and miss there by Diaz, and OH, BOY, Gasnier counters with a sublime reverse punch right across the champion’s chin. Gasnier now backing away, content to stick and move it seems.”
“I don’t know about this strategy, though. That move was superb by the challenger, but it won’t be enough against a fighter of this calibre. The champ just shrugged it off.”
“Gasnier bouncing on his feet, waiting for the champion to come to him. He’s pressed himself way too close to the fence.”
“Definitely not giving himself any room here, John. But he ducks that swing superbly!”
“Looks like the champ is hurt! He’s wringing that right hand of his. He appeared to hit the fence, I think? Was that the strategy? And NOW Gasnier goes after the champ! A brilliant one-two combination Diaz never saw! But again, just shakes it off, pushing Gasnier away but hesitant now in coming forward. Diaz clearly wasn’t expecting this. THIS is the Owen Gasnier we came to see! Unloading more lefts and rights to the champ’s head! Those hands are heat seeking missiles! ANOTHER swing and miss by the champ! He appears to be shaken! He doesn’t know what’s happening!”
“He’s as stunned as the crowd is delighted! Listen to that roar! Wow... Gasnier moves back against the Cage again, daring Diaz to come for him! I mean it worked once, but can he trust it again? NO! THE CHAMP RETALIATES!”
“I’VE NEVER SEEN THAT BEFORE!”
“The champ just shoved Gasnier, slamming him into the Cage like he was a doll! Holy hell! He’s pressing Gasnier against the steel and UNLOADING with heavy right hands!”
“And, just like that, the champ is back in control! He’s PUMMELING him!”
“The bell sounds! That’s the end of the first round. WHAT a start of a fight here! Gee, you gotta wonder if the round had been a few seconds longer if it would’ve been stopped. As impressive as Gasnier was in the opening exchanges, it took just one move for Diaz to gain the upper hand.”
“I agree, John. He was getting pulverised for a few seconds there. What must his team be saying to him?”
“His nose is broken,” Robert said, stuffing a piece of a snapped tampon up each nostril.
“What are you doing?” Fiona screamed. “You move away and let him close the gap! You get HIM frustrated enough to come after you. HE chases YOU, remember? You don’t fucking stand there and wait for him!”
“I know,” Owen replied, trying to suck in air through gritted teeth as Robert pressed the ice on his forehead, trying to stem the blood flow. “I thought I had him—”
“Had him?” Fiona screamed again, helping Robert by holding the ice so that he could attend the blood from the nostrils better. “That isn’t enough, Gaz. Come on! You do that again, the ref will stop it. I swear I saw him move his hand. You came this close. Focus! Congratulations. You survived to the second round. Now he’s really pissed off. This is going to become a street fight. Don’t let him get near you. He’s going to want to get you on the ground. He’s favouring his punches, so use your legs to keep stinging him and keep your distance.”
“Stay away from that fucking right hand,” Robert said, removing the blood-soaked tampon. “If it is broken, it’ll be numb now, and he won’t care if he hits the Cage. He won’t feel shit.”
A new bell sounded, and Owen rose to his feet. He let out a breath and saw flecks of blood from it hit his gloves. He put that out of his mind as he put his hands up, waiting for the snarling form opposite him to approach. ‘Keep the distance... Keep the distance. Win on points if you have to, but don’t let him get close, keep moving.’
“Both fighters, content to take their time it seems, measuring, cocking. Waiting for the right moment. THERE IT IS! The champ strikes first, but it’s blocked by Gasnier, who immediately responds with a leg kick. Then another.”
“These are just taps, John. No real power. They might be used to keep him at bay. Ah, but there! The champ comes forward and is met with a beautiful straight punch by Gasnier.”
“Very smart, that. Very smart.”
“The champ is looking frustrated here. Don’t forget, no one has gone the distance with either of these two, so we will see how much stamina they have to keep this up.”
“Great point, John. Here comes Diaz again, lunging for Gasnier, and the champ is PINGED AGAIN by a right hook. Damn, he’s quick! BUT, OH! A ROCKING counter by the champ hits Gasnier flush on the cheek. Gasnier stumbles...and the CHAMP pounces! Diaz wrestles him to the ground! Oh, boy! Gasnier, for the first time in his career, is OFF HIS FEET! The champ is HAMMERING away at Gasnier’s forearm block. The challenger is just trying to take all he can at this point.”
Owen heard Fiona scream, ‘No!’, a second before he got hit. He fucked up. He couldn’t believe he didn’t see that punch. Now, on his back, he had Diaz on top of him, laying into him with everything he had. His hulking bodyweight pressed Owen further down into the mat, preventing any real movement. All Owen could do was block his face. Diaz reached back and sank heavy fists into Owen’s unprotected ribs. Owen could’ve screamed at both the pain and the frustration. Unable to move, except for being hit, jerking from the pain. He couldn’t breathe with the weight on top of him. His mouth was filling with blood, and he was coughing it out under Diaz’ frame. If the ref saw it, the match would be stopped.
Diaz drove the point of his elbow into Owen’s forehead, directly into the wound Robert had tried to help. While still hitting Owen’s ribs, with his other arm, he rolled his elbow across Owen’s hairline, the blood oozing and flowing from the tactic. A deliberate gesture to make him bleed from the head.
Owen had no choice. He let Diaz continue as he shifted his neck and head, the only things he could somewhat move, and this opened Diaz’ legs just a touch. Owen brought his knee up hard into Diaz’ th
igh. Diaz groaned and gnashed his teeth, allowing Owen to take a small hint of an advantage. He pressed Diaz up with one hand, and a second later Owen’s elbow cracked just under Diaz’ eye. And again, before he could roll away.
“Gasnier broke free! He’s still in this! The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief!”
“Look at these two, would you? The best in the business and they look like they’ve been in a war, which is exactly what fight fans have been treated to as round two comes to a close.”
Robert helped Owen find his seat, thankfully. Owen was too exhausted to even think straight. “Jesus, that was lucky,” Robert whispered, prepping more ice.
“OK, what’s happening?” Fiona asked.
“He’s too strong,” Owen wheezed. “Nothing I do fazes him... I... I can’t...” Owen coughed and a splatter of blood hit Fiona on the chest. Over her shoulder, Owen saw the ref had started to head over with the stock standard “this is the final round” reminder as if they didn’t know. Fiona met Owen’s gaze. If the ref saw what just happened, he’d call it right there.
Fiona must’ve seen the desperation in Owen’s eyes. She knew the ref was coming. Robert was frantically trying to fix the blood flow and the damage Diaz had done to his head. Robert hadn’t seen it. Bleeding from the mouth meant bleeding inside.
“Please,” Owen whispered. “I gotta go out on my feet, not like this…not by a ref.”
Fiona glanced quickly at Robert. “Oh, fuck it.” She leaned forward and kissed Owen, placing her hands on either side of his head.
Owen waited for a few seconds before opening an eye, looking over her shoulder. The ref gave a roll of the eyes and turned back. Owen pulled back and eyed Fiona, thanking her as she used her thumb to clear the redness from his lips. “Thinking on your feet, huh?” he asked.
“Whatever. You’ve got one more round, you hear me? This is where it’s at. Last round. Where we wanted him, right? Forget the distance kicks. You cut him with that last elbow. You cut him! You’ve got a target. You punch and punch until that fucker’s face caves in. You won’t win on points... Bury him!”
“Straight rights. Left hooks,” Robert added. “Don’t let that bastard breathe. Don’t give him a straight line of attack. Keep circling to his inside shoulder.”
Owen rose but he found his back weak, his legs burning with enough pain to make him scream, and his arms could barely lift.
“Gaz...”
He heard Fiona as the crowd swelled yet again with a new rendition of Loch Lomond. Right now, it appeared the entire building was at a concert; such was the level of singing. It wasn’t loud or particularly boisterous. Instead, it had a level of meaning to it that came quickly to Owen: the people were trying to collectively inspire him. “Fiona... It’s great, but that only works in the movies.”
Fiona pressed against him, giving him what looked like a hug and whispered in his ear, “Turn around, Gaz. Look behind you.”
Owen did, directly into the sea of people. It didn’t take too long, though, for him to find what she wanted him to see. Tegan stood among the crowd, singing and clapping with the best of them. The scarf around her head was the colours of his trunks. Fear prickled into Owen’s head. How long had she been there? What if she had another attack? The fear, though, didn’t distract him. It galvanised him.
After catching Tegan’s eye and seeing her tearful smile as she held the red ‘V’ medallion he had given her all those months ago aloft, he mouthed the words, “I love you.” She faced uncertainty even showing up. Her heart had given her trouble where fighting was concerned, but she was here because she believed in him. Nothing else mattered at that moment.
Owen faced Fiona again, finding her eyes also shining with tears. Robert, the man who barely showed any emotions whatsoever, gave him a little wink. He and the girls had obviously planned this.
The bell sounded, and once again the ring cleared quickly, but Owen held onto Fiona in a last hug as a silent thank you. Fiona took a step out of the ring and suddenly yelled, “Your girl won her fight. Now, it’s your turn. Finish this cunt, Gaz. Do it, now!”
Owen walked a touch unsteadily but made it to the middle of the ring, facing the puffy, fuming and bleeding face of Diaz. “Showtime, boy,” Diaz said, getting into position.
“The last round in what has been a memorable fight, ladies and gents. Everything the experts thought it wouldn’t be. And here we go! Diaz launches a thunderous right to Gasnier! Gasnier staggers back, and the champ lunges for him again!”
“Explosive power by Diaz! You gotta wonder how much more Gasnier can take. He’s looking unsteady. They might have to stop this one before he gets killed.”
Owen had little energy left to lift his arms and protect his face. The straight fist struck him flush on the mouth. He felt the crack of his jaw and immediately bit his teeth together to hold it in place. Out of blind instinct, he looped a left hook aimed at Diaz’ cut cheek, but it went sailing over his head. Fuck! He was running out of time. He had to do something and quick. An idea flashed in his mind, something Fiona would kill him for.
“Gasnier looks groggy as he moves back towards the... He’s moving towards the Cage again, John! He’s a sitting duck, surely?”
“I can’t understand this. What do they say is the definition of doing something twice and expecting a different result?”
“Insanity, John.”
“Exactly.”
Owen ignored both Fiona’s and Robert’s admonishments. He knew what he was doing, he hoped, as he tightened his bite, causing more pain in his aching jaw.
Diaz sneered what looked like a smile as he closed in for the kill.
Owen couldn’t raise his arms to block effectively, but he could still make a fist. He could still hit. The time had come. Focus on defence or attack. Focusing on defence meant doing everything he could to ensure he wouldn’t be knocked out. Attack meant giving everything to win. All his strength. All his determination. Everything he had.
Tegan had taken everything life threw at her and had come out a winner. She had so much trouble with her heart when it came to fighting during her illness, yet she was here tonight. She didn’t quit. She never quit. What was a belt compared to that?
He answered himself: my life’s goal. His dream. He had one chance to show the world, the woman he loved, and himself, what he was made of. What he fought for. What he lived for and what he would die for. Owen. Would. Not. Quit.
“Diaz lunges for Ga—OH, HOLY HELL! WHAT A MOVE BY GASNIER!”
“Gasnier just used the Cage and his leg to springboard a spinning heel kick directly onto the point of Diaz’ jaw! The champ never expected that! The champ is down on his knees. The ref backs away, but will Gasnier—NO! Gasnier stays back! I cannot believe this! The belt is on the line, he’s getting pummelled in the points, but Gasnier refuses to finish the champ off!”
“I gotta say, we would’ve had a new champ crowned right there, people. Unbelievable!”
“Diaz, slow to get back up. I think it’s more a delaying tactic than anything, but Gasnier strikes again! Two quick elbows to the cut side of the champion’s face! And he snaps a jab! Another right and left!”
“I can’t believe it. Diaz is swinging at nothing! That springboard rocked him! Gasnier is relentless! Body shot after body shot! Then a devastating hit again! The champ is bleeding bad! Gasnier is screaming at him to come and get some!”
“Beautiful front spinning kick by the challenger! The champ is flung into the Cage, bounces right back, and Gasnier PICKS THE CHAMP UP! HE SLAMS HIS BACK INTO THE MAT! I HAVE NEVER SEEN THAT BEFORE! Both fighters are down!”
Owen held up Diaz by the neck, stared into his one open eye and cocked his fist. Diaz’ limp body didn’t move, save for repeatedly trying to grab Owen’s arm. To pulverise his already smashed face would’ve been the most satisfying experience of Owen’s career, but he wouldn’t sacrifice who he was and change what he believed in for glory. He couldn’t do that.
The next thing he
knew, the bell had gone, and he had stayed in that position for what seemed like an age before being barrelled into by Fiona, squealing with delight, hugging him. It was as if someone had turned the volume way up. The announcer had just said something Owen heard but couldn’t believe. The grabbing of Owen’s arm had been tapping. Diaz had tapped out. There was a new champion. He’d done it.
Robert gently pulled Owen to his feet and embraced him as emotion overcame them both. He didn’t let go for the longest time. They had been through so much together, and the journey had taken more from them than time could ever give back, but here, right now, the moment was theirs.
Owen spotted Tegan with Fiona in front, being led by the hand through the crowded Cage floor, passed the press and Diaz’ crew. Right alongside her was a stadium official, carrying the belt and readying it for placement around his waist or over his shoulder.
Owen couldn’t wait. He needed it now. He rushed forward, straight passed the official, and embraced Tegan as she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him. Reporters were trying to get a hold of him, but he ignored them. It was as if time stood still, as they pressed their foreheads together. Throughout all the commotion, the questions and cheers, they both heard the only words they wanted to hear.
“I love you.”
They had both faced their battles, suffered and endured, but ultimately came out on top. Both stood as champions in their own right. Tegan backed away from him, unable to hide her smile, and clapped as Owen turned to see the title there for him, waiting to be taken. Owen’s lips trembled as he took the gleaming title belt with two hands, bringing it into his chest.
He stayed like that for a few seconds before he burst into motion, flinging the arm holding the title belt into the air, evoking an almighty roar from the crowd. Owen took his time to soak it in before he handed it to an ecstatic and wide-eyed Fiona.
He turned to find a huge commotion had broken out behind him. Diaz’ manager, Khoder El Masri, was being taken to the ground by none other than Solomon Crane who was cuffing the man’s hands behind his back and reading him his rights and charges. “Fraud... Obstruction of justice...”
Undisputed (The Undisputed Series Book 1) Page 19
