Caged Love: MMA Contemporary Suspense (Book One) (4 page)

A
fter a quick training session to cut weight and get to know each other’s fighting styles, Mr. Kim took Bretten and Rodrigo to the bustling Itaewon. They bought knockoff Nikes and ate something called galbi.

Now after a night of restless sleep, Mr. Kim walked them to the conference area of Jangchung Arena. They pushed through double doors and into a din of action. “This is crazy,” Bretten said. “So this is what a real weigh-in is like?”

“What do you mean?” Rodrigo said. “You’ve never been to a weigh-in?”

“Not like this. I’ve only fought five times and we just weighed in a couple hours before the fight, nothing formal.”

“Dang bro, this really is new to you isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’ve done some kickboxing and trained in jiu jitsu for only a couple years, just had my first fight like five months ago. I showed up to watch and they needed a replacement. One of my friends volunteered me so I ate a couple hot dogs and twenty minutes later was in the ring with a guy that was close to twenty pounds heavier than me.”

Rodrigo grabbed Bretten’s arm and turned toward him. “You gotta be shitting me, right? What Happened?”

“Nope, that’s how I started, and I knocked his ass out.”

The theater-sized room displayed an assortment of colors and patterns in its plush carpet. A couple dozen reporters sat on red cushioned chairs and talked with each other or typed on their laptops. In the middle of it all was a podium flanked by two long tables.

Mr. Kim found the event coordinator who Bretten had corresponded with previously. He ushered them to seats at the end of one of the long tables. At the other end sat a handful of Korean fighters, Bretten didn’t know which one, if any, was Hyun Min Cho. Another two or three were standing throughout the room, each surrounded by their own little following of reporters.

Bretten gazed at his surroundings and his admissions to Rodrigo made him take stock as to how exactly he’d gotten here. It had been a sharp change in direction that hadn’t seemed real until this moment. In a way this was his coming out party, a big enough stage to announce that Bretten Maris was a fighter, and a damn good one.

The opening of the double doors ripped those thoughts from his head. “Check it out, Brooke Simms,” Rodrigo said.

The woman entered the room with a natural elegance. Attention shifted from the other fighters and landed squarely on her. The interest was due to her looks, but Brooke was a great fighter as well. Through five bouts she tallied a 5-0 record. Her last two wins came at UCC 126
Clash in Cleveland
and UCC 127
Rapid Retribution
. This exposure, mixed with her skill and good looks, thrust her into the spotlight in a hurry and landed her just short of the main event here at Courage and Heart Fighting Championships.

Whittney Daulton entered next. Bretten slapped Rodrigo’s arm. “Whittney freaking Daulton!”

“I figured Whit would be here, he’s Brooke’s and that guy’s coach,” Rodrigo nodded to the third person to enter.

“Is that Tristan Holmes?”

“Yep, he kicked the crap out of me a few months ago.”

The three made their way to their seats at the middle of the table next to the podium. Both Rodrigo and Bretten stood as the trio walked toward them. Rodrigo shook hands with Whit, Brooke, and then Tristan, and was rewarded with, “Looks like you healed up good “
Hot
” Roddie, how’s the arm?”

“Good Tristan, I’m ready to fight,” Rodrigo said in a strained but cordial voice.

Tristan grinned. “Yeah, you’ll be alright since you aren’t in the cage with me,” and pushed by to his seat.

When Brooke approached, Bretten found himself falling into her green eyes. They were so clear and confident, so beautiful. “Hi, I’m Bretten Maris,” he stammered.

A thin smile drifted over her lips. “Hi Bretten Maris. I’m Brooke Simms.”

“It’s uh great to meet you. I saw you fight at 127.”

Her smile broadened. “You were there?”

“No, I just watched it at Buffalo Wild Wings.”

“Oh, cool,” she said. “Where do you train?”

“Just a local gym in Iowa.”

“I train at this monster’s gym.” She gave Whit a playful punch on the arm. “This is the infamous Whit Daulton. Coach, this is Bretten Maris. He likes chicken wings.” She turned to Bretten and one of those big green eyes winked at him.

“Coach Whittney Daulton, it’s an honor to meet you sir,” Bretten said.

“Whit,” was the reply, but in the commotion Bretten thought he said what.

“I said it’s an honor to meet you, Whittney.”

Whit’s laser-eyes pierced Bretten and almost caused him to tap out right there on the white table cloth, “And I said Whit, not what, I go by Whit.”

“Nice job, rookie,” Brooke laughed as she walked past him to her seat.

Bretten just nodded stupidly. “Good luck,” Whit said as he followed her.

Bretten sat down. “Dude, you don’t know anything do you,” Rodrigo said. “He hates being called Whittney.”

Even with the embarrassment of the gaffe, Bretten found himself glancing down the table to Brooke Simms until he noticed Tristan was staring at him like he wanted to kill him.

“They used to have a thing,” Rodrigo said.

Bretten nodded and turned to scan the growing crowd. His was the fourth fight of the night. What they call the swing fight. It would be on Korean TV if some of the televised bouts were quick finishes, if not he’d have to search for it on You Tube.

The announcer rattled off a string of Korean and then Bretten heard his name. He felt foolish as he raised his hand and nodded. Minutes later his name was called again, this time for the weigh-in. He stripped down to his shorts and walked to the scale. He kept his stomach sucked in, although there wasn’t much to suck, and his chest flexed with every step. Partially for the cameras, and partially for the best damn looking fighter he’d ever come across.

Bretten wasn’t concerned with his weight. He was fighting at one seventy and boarded the plane at one seventy four. Even with last night’s galbi he cut the pounds easy and tipped the scales at one hundred sixty nine pounds, 76.7 Kilograms.

He stepped off and his opponent stepped on. Up to this point Bretten didn’t even know what the man looked like, let alone talked to him. Hyun Min Cho had three inches of long black hair with blonde tips, his skin was smooth and he wore a serious demeanor on an angular body. Everything from his jaw line to his elbows to his leg muscles appeared hard and sharp. He was the same height as Bretten and came in right at 170 pounds, 77 Kilograms.

Bretten had watched enough UCC weigh-ins to know the stare down was next. Hyun Min Cho shoved his face into Bretten’s and glared. Bretten tried to return the favor but Cho leaned in further until their foreheads touched. This drew quite a reaction from the crowd until the announcer began talking and Cho stepped back and bowed.

Thanks to all the excitement of traveling to Korea and fighting on a bigger stage, the anger Bretten had felt before his first five fights had not been there. As he walked back to his seat it foamed to the surface. He wanted to punch a hole in Cho’s head.

When he plopped down into his seat, Rodrigo said, “Dude it looks like you are being
water
in all the wrong ways once again,” and glanced at Bretten’s shorts.

“I didn’t look that nervous did I? Anyway, I’m gonna kick that fucker’s ass.”

Then Bretten glanced at his shorts just to make sure they weren’t wet.

When it was Brooke’s turn, Bretten stared at her shoulders as she climbed on the scale. They were lean and round, the shoulders of someone who vigorously practiced her trade.

Her weight was read, exactly one fifteen, or 52.2 kilograms. She raised both arms and flexed her biceps, Bretten forgot to do that, but he noticed her biceps muscles were sleek and elegant.

He also hung on each of her words as she spoke of the fight and complimented her opponent. In a very short time she had commanded his total attention even though it probably wasn’t her intentions. Of course she most likely did the same to every other man in the room.

B
rooke Simms sat in a gray folding chair in the corner of her room, the rhythmic sound of Tristan hitting pads with Coach Whit in the background. She looked down at her taped hands and opened and closed them.

As she did so, her mind drifted. She thought back to the time she used those same hands to grab the candy bars and run out of the store, the way she tried to hand them to her mother, but she was too weak to take them.

It was always this movie in her mind before fights. She didn’t know why but it played out the same. After the van she was running, feet pounding, the men were grabbing at her. The punches and kicks and grunts as they fell, the caring arms around her.

Then there was her father. His sad eyes seemed to beg for forgiveness. As she flexed her hands, a new image brushed up against her thoughts. It was of the man she just met at the weigh in the night before. His name was Bretten Maris. He was beautiful with his dark hair, piercing eyes and high cheek bones, and the way he talked to her gave her a strange feeling.

The image faded as quickly as it had come. She hopped to her feet and threw some punches at the air. She didn’t know what to make of it so she pushed it away in order to focus on preparing for her fight.

* * *

The lights shot into the tunnel. Bretten leaned forward and looked out of the cave-like passageway, left, then right, and finally up toward the brightly lit ceiling.

Jangchung Arena writhed with a sea of bodies packed shoulder to shoulder and right on top of each other. The fans pulsated almost as one. They danced, chanted, and waved Korean flags in anticipation.

Bretten started slipping into the euphoric pandemonium, but knew that in a very short time he would stand in the middle of it. And the pandemonium would plant itself right on his chest when his opponent was announced. The fans were already unleashing a rhythmic...
Oh Pilsung Hyun Min Cho – Oh Pilsung Hyun Min Cho, Aye Oh Aye Oh Aye
I ... “Number one driver” Kim informed Bretten that it meant
Victory Hyun Min Cho
.

Rodrigo, hands taped because there were only a couple more fights before his, gathered Bretten back into the tunnel. Rodrigo glared and jammed his finger into his new friend’s chest. Bretten snapped out of his funk and looked at Rodrigo.

“Are you a fighter Maris?”

“I’m a fighter.”

“Hell yeah you’re a fighter, and when you step into the ring not a damn thing matters except you and him. All the cheering and chanting fans in the entire freaking world won’t be able to save his ass.”

Bretten pinched his shoulder blades together, flexed his chest, and pounded his gloved fists into each other. “I’m a fighter!”

He believed he belonged in the ring with Hyun Min Cho and he was ready to hurt him.

Five minutes later he stood nose to nose scowling at Cho. He thought of his brother, of how his killers were still out there. He wasn’t using that as fuel. It just came to him before fights. He wanted to beat the shit out of Hyun Min Cho.

In a rush the fight was on. Cho pursued Maris, showing little respect. Bretten circled, the chanting crowd was deafening. He planted his feet and stuck Cho with a stiff jab followed by a smashing right. The Korean shot, Bretten sprawled, Cho landed a left, Bretten retaliated with a roundhouse. Cho popped Bretten with an overhand right. Bretten blasted Cho’s leg with a low kick. The furious exchanges continued with lightning speed until Cho shot in and finished a takedown when he pulled Bretten to the canvas.

Cho was on top, but the Korean did not respect Bretten’s jiu jitsu skills. He didn’t try to pass guard over Bretten’s legs which clung to Cho’s hips. Instead, he stayed there and tried to bash Bretten’s already swollen face.

Hyun Min got careless, and after catching Bretten on the shoulder, left his arm out. Bretten latched on with both hands and took a big left to the face as he shifted his hips and threw his left leg over Cho’s head. His feet closed around the Korean and Rodrigo yelled. “Straighten it out, squeeze!”

Bretten did just that. Cho fought to pull out of the armbar, Bretten cranked harder trying to straighten the arm. Cho’s ligaments and tendons struggled to hold his elbow together. Snap!

It was not the break of an arm, but the break of a hold. Sweaty arms and hands proved Bretten’s nemesis. With only one minute to go in the ten minute round, the Korean stepped back and shook out his arm while Bretten rolled to his feet, both fighters exhausted.

Their strikes were slower, but they exchanged again and again until the bell sounded. The two high-fived each other on the way to their corners as the fans cheered.

“Take deep breaths,” Rodrigo said. “Work for a takedown of your own. Gain control and deliver some ground and pound, but first work the jab and make sure you’re completely recovered.”

Bretten nodded as Rodrigo poured water on his face. It dripped off his chin and then it was time for the second and final round of the two-round fight.

Bretten followed Rodrigo’s advice and stuck the jab in Hyun Min’s face, once, twice, a third time, then ate a big right hand for his troubles. He picked up the pace a little and shot in for a single leg. The Korean escaped and just missed with a huge knee that might have ended the fight.

The two met again and ended up in a clinch. Both threw knees, elbows and hands for thirty seconds, then for a minute straight they went all out toe to toe in the center of the ring. The pace finally caught up to them. The bloodied and battered fighters pushed away from each other.

With time running short in the five minute round, they regrouped for a final effort to break the other.

The crowd was berserk. The building rumbled. They engaged in a final massive barrage and struck each other with everything they had until the final bell. Jangchung arena was in eruption mode. The exhausted fighters hugged. Cho’s corner scooped him up then he climbed the ropes with his arms raised, Rodrigo did the same for Bretten and the crowd cheered just as loud.

The men milled around the ring waiting for the decision. After a nervous minute they gathered in the center. The referee grasped their wrists, poised to raise one hand. The first judge gave the fight to Cho, the second to Bretten. The announcer paused before reading the third judge’s decision. Everyone hung on his words. He seemed to relish in the stillness, the spotlight. “Hyun Min Cho!” He screamed.

Bretten’s chin collapsed to his chest, he gulped the air, squeezed his eyes shut, then bent over in disappointment. Cho lifted and hugged him. Bretten had vowed to himself that he was done losing. He’d already lost so much in the recent months and yearned for absolute victory. And yet he’d let himself down once again. Despite his heartbreak with the decision, he won a lot of fans with the incredible effort, including a couple who watched while warming up, Whit Daulton and Brooke Simms. Tristan Holmes acted as if he wasn’t all that impressed.

* * *

Bretten recovered fine and felt better than he thought he would considering he’d just suffered his first loss and gotten punched in the head more times than he cared to count. He’d stepped out of the cage only forty minutes prior. Now he marched right back towards it alongside Rodrigo.

His new friend walked with purpose and confidence. He nodded to the fans, gave a few slaps on the hand, and then bounced into the ring. He jogged around once and stopped to hit knuckles with his opponent, Song Min Chu.

Rodrigo looked bigger, more confident, more athletic, better in just about every way. Still Bretten was more nervous in his corner than he was in the ring. He knew that anything could happen in a fight.

He didn’t have much to worry about. Rodrigo overwhelmed Chu in the stand-up game and knocked him down only two minutes in. He then took control on the ground, got the mount and rained down punches, forcing a stoppage at 2:36 of the first round. Bretten thought the performance impressive, but it also made him wonder how good Tristan Holmes was since he whipped Rodrigo just months earlier.

After a quick trip to the dressing room for Rodrigo to clean up, the two returned ringside just as Brooke stepped through the ropes. Hers was the second to last fight and the crowd seemed in a lull, as if they didn’t take her seriously. She was a petite, pretty thing, surely her fists, elbows, knees, and feet weren’t made of thunder and lightning. It didn’t take long for the crowd to see that they were. She dropped her opponent to the floor quickly, and took her back with what seemed like little effort. It wasn’t long before she felt the tap. Brooke ended the fight with a rear naked choke.

Bretten saw the look in her eyes afterward, relief. He felt it after each of his fights and wondered if she too was trying to beat the hell out of at least some of her past. After the weigh-in Rodrigo had told him more about her. She had lost her mom when she was young and had grown up with Tristan and his father, Scott Holmes.

He wondered what her life had been like before he met her the last night. He wanted to find out. There was a connection there, he was sure of it. He found himself slipping into a daydream where he was with her, the two of them walking side by side, holding hands and talking about their pasts and their future dreams. He was brought out of the daydream by the start of Tristan’s fight.

Tristan was up against a well-respected Japanese fighter with supposed great jiu jitsu. Tristan wouldn’t let the man take him to the ground though. He sprawled and scrambled effectively for almost the entire first round before landing a perfectly timed knee at the 8:31 mark and putting the man’s lights out.

It was a solid night for the four American fighters. Three victories and the one loss came in a monumental battle. As the arena cleared and the fighters were getting paid and geared up for the after parties, Bretten scanned the thinning crowd and found Brooke standing close to the ring. She fielded questions from a handful of reporters, smiling the whole time.

“Here comes Coach Whit,” Rodrigo said as he clapped Bretten’s shoulder.

“You guys both fought well tonight,” Whit said. “I might have openings for you at my gym in Enid. I mean if you’re interested in training with the best.”

“When do you want me there?” Rodrigo said.

Whit smiled. “I like that enthusiasm,” and turned to Bretten.

“I appreciate the offer, Whit,” Bretten stated his name clearly this time, “but that’s a big step for me. Seriously, I appreciate it, but I’m going to have to talk it over with my family.”

“Your call pup, no pressure here, you know where to reach me.”

Brooke sidled up beside Whit. “What’s his call, Coach? Mango Jalapeno or Barbeque?”

“I invited them to train with us.”

A smile spread across Brooke’s face and her eyes twinkled. “You should. You’d love it at Whit’s. You both fought awesome tonight. That was a fucking battle, Bretten! I gave you the nod.”

Bretten felt his cheeks grow hot. “Thanks, you fought great too. I just have to figure it all out.”

“We’ll take it easy on you,” she replied.

Two reporters appeared wanting to ask Whit and Brooke some questions. “Like I said, you know where to reach me,” Whit said.

Bretten nodded, thanked him again, and glanced over the big man’s right shoulder. Brooke brushed her hair away from her eyes as she talked to the reporters.

Who was he kidding? He was going to Enid, Oklahoma.