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MK Kilmarnock
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Hate, hate, HATE!!!
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Jerry's eyes floated down to Trav's feet. He had switched stances... so that was a thing. Fighting a 'righty' shouldn't be so hard, but he had to admit it scared him a little. Was Trav pulling a... what was it, Indigo Montalban from that movie? That stupid whole 'I am not left handed' thing where he suddenly got better? If so, that could spell very bad news.

Jerry figured that maybe he was just overthinking it, that letting Trav lead was still a good idea. Left hook. Jerry just backpedaled away from that one, but he was running out of room to play with and the mat was about to end just a couple of feet behind him. After hitting his head on the cage twice... thrice... whatever the hell came after 'thrice' (quarice?), he had at least learned to have some awareness.

The hook was just a set-up, though, and Jerry knew it. He watched Trav's foot, and there came a right kick. From an orthodox stance, something like that took a while to throw. Not the sort of thing you'd fake. Jerry would block that, trap it, prepare for an awesome take-

Was that Trav's left leg?


Jerry's arms dropped and his left knee buckled. Funny. The mat seemed to be getting a lot closer to his face.
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