MMA had become the norm for the streets, except when you have the triangle choke fixed tightly on your opponent, you also expect his friend to be coming around to kick you in the face.
After a the neuro-wipeout decade, most of the fighting styles blended together; only the spiritually on-line could decode the movements, placing them with their origins.
What the new fighters had forgotten was what I embraced. We both honored discipline, but only I still embraced the will to kill. It wasn't about a victory, it was always about survival to me. I never stopped pounding until they stopped moving. I never broke a hold until I heard a broken bone.
The suits still made their money ever since they got in league with the police, having surveillance cameras placed on every street corner, with alerts and Ante Wormholes opening to accept all bets on any streetfight that broke out, or any riot that lasted longer than ten minutes. Vegas appreciated it since the NFL became sad and predictable when the salary cap was lifted. Some people called it the Yankee virus.
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