Resin dust swirled and the scream of the stands was like a single anguished cry.
Alix went to a neutral corner, shrugging his shoulder muscles loose, trying to still the sudden pounding of his heart. Nick had been knocked down before, often.
He took a full count, under the rules, but was on one knee at three. The big black semaphore of Willie's right hand and then those hands wiping the gloves and Willie stepping clear.
Nick stormed in. He got through Alix's left, this time, and sent a looping right hand high. It missed, but it was meant to miss. Nick's elbow smashed Alix's mouth.
Rage, a red rage and they stood in the corner, trading leather.
The hook came in low, and pain knifed into Alix's groin. In his aching blindness he could feel Nick's feet groping for his, trying to find his instep.
Champion, model.
Alix grabbed, and hung on. This one he had to win. This one could be lost, right now.
Nick said, "Break it up, phoney man. I can't hit you when you're hanging on."
The big slap of Willie's hand. Willie, playing it straight. Alix broke at the touch.