Felipe took a deep breath and tried to remember what was said.
He looked over at his corner team, who were all nodding their heads.
"Listen, you're better than this," Whittier added, softening slightly. "I know you can do it. Focus on your footwork and distance. He's gonna come in hard, so make him pay for it. When he gets too close, throw those body kicks. He can't handle them."
Felipe wiped sweat from his face, nodded, and took another sip of water.
He was listening, but Whittier could see the frustration building.
"You got this," Whittier said, giving him a firm pat on the back. "Now go out there and fight smart. Don't let him control you."
The stool was pulled out from under Felipe, and he stood up, shaking out his arms as he prepared to re-enter the battle.
Brian stood up across the cage and looked at Felipe with his eyes.
Even though the pace had been hard, Felipe's energy was still high.
On the other side of the cage, Balim Chemasov stood with a wide grin, patting Brian on the shoulder with a heavy hand.
"Good, very good," Chemasov said, nodding in approval. "But now, no more playing. Time to stop playing with food, You smesh him now. Finish the fight!"
Brian, still catching his breath, nodded, absorbing the words.
Chemasov leaned in, his voice lowering but still intense. "He's scared, you see? He don't want to wrestle you. You make him suffer, yes? You take him down, and you end this. No more fun, now is time for kill."
He slapped Brian's back, and the other coaches nodded in agreement. "Go now, finish. Show him what happens when he fight you."
Brian looked straight at Felipe with eyes that were filled with determination. He understood what he needed to do.
BEEEEEH!
As the bell rang to start the second round, Felipe knew he had to make adjustments.
As he moved back to find his range, his heart was beating fast.
His feet moved quickly, his mind moving just as fast, looking for an opening.
He flicked out a few jabs, testing the waters, but Brian had turned into a different beast.
Brian stalked forward like a predator, his expression cold and focused.
The punches that Felipe threw might as well have been tossed at a wall.
The moment Felipe hit the ground, Brian didn't waste a second.
He was already in top position, his body like a vice as he locked Felipe down.
Felipe's legs scrambled to get a guard in place, but Brian was too fast.
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He immediately postured up, his eyes focused, his fists raised.
And then the barrage began.
Brian rained down heavy hammerfists, his knuckles crashing into Felipe's arms and shoulders as he tried to cover up.
Each punch felt like it could break bone.
Brian switched to his elbows and directed them straight at Felipe's face. Each one cut through the air like a blade.
Felipe tried to buck his hips, trying to create space, but Brian was glued to him, smothering any attempt to escape.
Felipe reached up to push Brian away, but his arms felt weak, and Brian slapped them aside as if they were nothing.
"Get up! Move!" Whittier screamed from the corner, his voice desperate.
Felipe tried to listen, but Brian's pressure was too much.
His vision was blurry from the strikes, and his head throbbed with pain as each punch found its mark.
"That's it, Brian! Finish him! No more playing!" Chemasov shouted, his broken English clear as day.
Brian heard his coach's words and nodded slightly, as if confirming the order.
Brian postured up even higher, creating space between him and Felipe.
He swung his elbow viciously across Felipe's forehead, cutting him deeply right away.
Felipe's face was covered in blood that ran down and onto the mat.
Felipe tried to block, but Brian wouldn't give up. His eyes got big, breathing quickly.
His next elbow hit Felipe right on the nose, making a sound like bones breaking.
Blood sprayed from Felipe's face, splattering across the canvas.
"Fight back, Felipe!" Whittier screamed, but it was no use.