Damon circled from the start, light on his feet, hands low, eyes locked on Shane with a grin forming across his face.
He didn't rush. He didn't even throw. He just circled and dipped, bobbing in and out with the kind of footwork that said one thing, this wasn't going to be a fast fight, it was going to be a long one, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.
Shane came forward, head slightly tilted, pawing with his lead hand, trying to pressure early.
Damon slipped the jab without flinching and responded by tapping his gloves together mockingly in front of his own face. He didn't punch. He just gave Shane a look.
"Come on, champ. Show me something," he said loud enough for the cameras to catch.
Shane fired a leg kick. Damon stepped back and exaggerated the reaction, flailing his arms like it hurt, then winked at the front row.
The crowd roared with laughter. Shane threw again, angrier this time, and Damon checked it clean.
Then he struck.
