The boxing ring smelled faintly of sweat and old leather, familiar. Kant glanced at the side where the ropes were looser. Perhaps he could kick the new guy into it and let him fall off the ring. Knock his pride down a few pegs, end it fast.
"You don't look like much," the guy said, rolling his shoulders as he stepped into the center of the ring. "Shouldn't take long."
Kant's eyes sharpened. What was this big mouth's deal? What could he gain from coming into a base of fighters to talk shit? Was he trying to get beaten up?
Silas made a quick introduction, "Hunter, Kant. Kant, Hunter. Are you guys ready?"
Kant gave a curt nod and Hunter smirked.
Minutes later, the ring had turned into a play of a fed cat toying with a rabid mouse.
Hunter lunged, but Kant read the movement too easily. A sidestep, a feint, a light shove to the back. The crowd reacted with another round of laughter as Hunter stumbled forward, barely catching himself.
"You—" Hunter whirled around, seething.
