Free The Combat Codes by Alexander Darwin

defending arms. He followed up with a straight elbow, the sharp part of the bone drilling directly toward the boy’s head, who barely managed to get two cupped hands in front of his face to soften the blow. Grinder pinned one the boy’s wrists to the ground and reared up for another elbow.
    Just as the elbow fell and Grinder’s balance was centered forward, the boy bucked his hips, throwing Grinder’s head toward the ground. He squeezed out from underneath Grinder’s legs. The boy somersaulted forward and nimbly sprang to his feet. Blood was now pouring from the boy’s nose and the nasty gash over his eyebrow.
    Murray shook his head in amazement.
    The sag in Grinder’s shoulders was noticeable now as he edged toward his opponent, heaving as he tried to catch a quick breath. The smaller boy was light on his feet despite the fact that he was covered head to toe in his own blood. He bounced and feinted in and out of Grinder’s range like a cat.
    The boy connected a series of quick low kicks to Grinder’s shin, more annoying than damaging to the bigger Grievar. Just before he threw each kick, the boy looked down at the spot he was aiming for. Grinder grinned slightly as he caught the boy looking down. Catching one of those kicks would mean getting the boy back on the dirt, where he could finish the fight.
    The boy looked down again, and this time, Grinder preempted the kick, dropping his hand to catch the incoming foot. To his surprise, the boy instead came in with a quick cross, connecting with Grinder’s eye socket and sending him reeling. The boy followed his opponent, hitting him with two more jabs to the face that brought Grinder’s hands high and then a winging left that thudded into Grinder’s liver.
    Murray had seen and felt many well-placed liver shots before, and this was one of them; a second or two delay after the punch connected, followed by overwhelming pain and the body’s refusal to answers the brain’s commands. Grinder toppled face-first into the dirt and curled up into a ball.
    The boy stood above his downed opponent, wobbling on his feet. The dirt under him was steeped in red.
    Murray looked over to Thaloo, who now had a frown on his walrus-like face. He suspected Thaloo had the damage threshold of his in-house Grievar set extremely high, which was why the light hadn’t faded yet. Grinder would need to sustain more damage for the Circle to recognize a finish.
    The boy seemed conflicted, standing over Grinder with a blank stare on his face. Most Grievar would have waded in without hesitation, paying no heed to the Codes. A kick to the head would do the job. Listened to the light, they would say afterward to excuse themselves from the dishonorable attack.
    Instead, the boy fell toward Grinder, his legs giving way as he landed next to his opponent in the dirt. He grasped Grinder’s bulky body with one arm, tugging himself against the big Grievar’s shoulders and reaching for his neck.
    Grinder was still conscious. He feebly attempted to defend the north-south choke, fighting off the circling hand, but the boy’s bloodied forearm slipped beneath the big Grievar’s head. The boy dropped his shoulder into Grinder’s neck and squeezed, his eyes closed, using the last of his energy to go for the finish.
    Grinder went out. The light above dimmed and the mass of spectrals broke apart.
    Murray breathed out. He realized he’d been holding his breath for the last minute of the fight.
    The golden-eyed boy had won. He’d beaten one of Thaloo’s in-house Grievar, one ranked far above him. That kind of upset in a slave Circle was unheard-of. The strong always beat the weak here.
    Murray could hear some of Tasker Ozark’s crew cheering from the sidelines. They were yelling, “Cego.” More often, the boys were rooting against members of their own crew.
    The boy, Cego, attempted to stand, but his knees wobbled and his eyes rolled back into his head. He fell back to the dirt beside his unconscious