Cole dropped his center of gravity, perfectly sinking his hips under Derek’s belt line.
There was no strain, no grunting, just the precise explosive application of leverage.
Cole popped his hips. Derek’s 210-pound frame left the ground. His legs kicked helplessly in the empty air. Crash.
Derek slammed onto the mat flat on his back. The impact literally shook the floorboards beneath the canvas.
Before Derek could even exhale, Cole was on him. This wasn’t jiu-jitsu as Derek knew it. There were no intricate guard passes or playful scrambles.
Cole bypassed Derek’s legs entirely, dropping his full weight into a cross face from side control. Cole’s shoulder drove brutally into Derek’s jawline, turning his head sharply to the left. Derek grunted in pain. He planted his feet and bridged wildly, trying to buck the lighter man off, but Cole felt like a block of cement. He didn’t ride high.
He sank his hips low, heavy, and completely unbothered by the thrashing beneath him.
“Get off,” Derek gasped, his face turning a mottled red. He framed his hands against Cole’s neck, trying to push him away.
Cole methodically stripped Derek’s framing arm. He pinned Derek’s left wrist to the mat with his own knee, effectively neutralizing half of the black belt’s defense.
Then, Cole shifted his weight higher, placing his sternum directly over Derek’s diaphragm.
Every time Derek exhaled, Cole settled deeper, taking the space. It took 30 seconds for the psychological break to begin.
Derek was used to imposing his will. He was used to being the hammer.
Now, trapped beneath a guy who felt 30 pounds heavier than he actually was, panic started to set in.
Derek’s mouth opened. He started gasping for air, his breath hitching. Cole wasn’t looking at him. He stared blankly at the far wall, breathing slowly and exclusively through his nose.
He was completely at rest, while the man beneath him was fighting for his life.
Derek thrashed again, burning precious oxygen. In his desperation, he exposed his right arm, extending it to try and push Cole’s face away.
Cole moved with terrifying fluidity. He caught the wrist, slid his left leg over Derek’s face, and locked his hips down into a pristine armbar.
But, he didn’t crank it. He didn’t hyperextend the joint to snap the ligament, Not yet.
He held it at the absolute edge of breaking. The joint was straight. The tendons in Derek’s elbow creaked.
Derek’s eyes widened in sheer panic. He slammed his left hand against the mat.
Tap, tap, tap.
Cole looked down at him. His face was a mask of cold stone.
He didn’t let go. Derek slapped the mat harder, frantically, his voice cracking into a high-pitched whine.
