The snapping jab snaked back in. Followed by Fergus. It’s obvious  he’s a big puncher. That’s the way it is with big right-handers, they are predictable. **Throw** a jab, they try to clean your clock. However, they always leave themselves open to a southpaw and that is what Fergus faced. A southpaw. Pulling back his head ever so slightly to the right, Jake slipped his head out and under the crossing right hand, his body hunching low as his left leg sidled out as he launched a vicious hook to the body of Fergus. Having slipped outside  the right hand, Jake rocketed the punch up, exploding the power in his thick legs and butt, translating that power into a focal point along the front of his gloves.  

His target, the floating ribs on Fergus’ right side. A liver punch. A devastating blow. On a lesser man, it probably would drop him, but this was a seasoned MMA fighter. While it might not stop him in his tracks it should cause him to fatigue rapidly over the match.

As the left hand landed, as it would be all but impossible for it to miss in the space they stood and their body position, Jake launched the follow-up blow. An uppercut that would be inside the extended right arm of Fergus. Shifting his weight on the balls of his feet in a fraction of a second the power of his thick shoulders raced up in a beeline for Fergus’ jawline. Depending on how Fergus handled the pain of the liver shot would determine if the uppercut landed flush on the bottom of the chin or along the jaw with the potential to break it. 

Whatever happened next they would be in close quarters. 

** Spelling