Damon stood across from Ivan in the sparring ring, both wearing full training gear, their gloves raised and eyes locked on each other.
The gym was filled with the sounds of other fighters training, but to Damon, it was just him and Ivan right now.
The Russian had good striking, and his background in sambo was evident in how he moved, balanced, calculated, and always ready to counter.
Damon took a Muay Thai stance, light on his feet, and tested the waters with a low kick aimed at Ivan's lead leg.
The sharp slap of his shin against Ivan's thigh echoed through the gym.
Ivan absorbed the hit, his face unreadable, and stepped back, adjusting his stance slightly. Damon noted the way Ivan moved, strong, deliberate.
Another low kick from Damon. This one landed harder, a thudding connection that made Ivan's leg twitch slightly.
Damon kept his guard high, but he wasn't rushing into any punches just yet.
His focus was on chopping down Ivan's legs, one strike at a time.
The low kicks kept coming, each one a little faster and harder than the last.
Ivan blocked a couple, but each successful strike made him flinch just a bit more.
Damon could see the wear starting to show in Ivan's movements.
His stance shifted, and his balance wavered slightly.
Damon knew this was the opening he needed, but he didn't rush it.
Another low kick followed, then another, each aimed at the same spot.
Damon was relentless, circling around Ivan, making sure the Russian couldn't plant his feet long enough to throw anything solid back.
They reset after a brief exchange, the air in the gym heavy with concentration.
Ivan rubbed his leg subtly, trying to mask the growing pain.
Ivan nodded, his face serious. "Understood, coach."
Whittier clapped his hands together, signaling the end of the sparring round. "Alright, both of you, take a break. I want you fresh for the next session. We'll work on blending everything together. We're not just focusing on one thing—you need to be well-rounded fighters if you want to win."
Damon and Ivan stepped out of the ring, grabbing their water bottles and towels.
As Damon took a sip, he replayed the sparring session in his mind, already thinking about how to incorporate Whittier's advice into his next round.
He glanced over at Ivan, who was stretching out his legs, the faint marks of Damon's kicks still visible on his thighs. Ivan caught his eye and gave him a nod of respect.
"Good kicks," Ivan muttered, wincing slightly as he moved his leg.
"Thanks," Damon replied with a small grin. "Good blocks, but next time, I'll switch it up."
Ivan chuckled. "Next time, I won't let you kick so much."
They both knew the next round would be different, and they both welcomed the challenge.
It had been a few days since Damon's meeting with the CEO, and ever since he returned to the house, he had kept to himself.
The events of that night were still affecting him, and while most of the fighters went about their daily lives, Damon decided to avoid any interactions that were not necessary.
Even his old friend Kevin hadn't gotten much out of him. Damon kept his distance from the opposite team, avoiding potential conflicts.
The tension from his last fight was still there, and he wasn't eager to stir things up again.
But not everything was cold and distant. Ivan, Damon's roommate, was the fighter he had suddenly bonded with.
There was something about Ivan's straightforwardness that Damon respected.
The Russian fighter was genuine and honest, never sugarcoating things, and never involving himself in unnecessary drama.
In the few quiet moments they shared, whether after training or just winding down in the room, Damon found himself talking to Ivan about fights, life, and their goals.
Though Ivan was a man of few words, what he did say always carried weight.
They shared a common understanding, focus on the fight, and let everything else fall to the wayside.