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95

Brooks'  POV

I stepped back, balancing my weight on my left foot, and threw my right fist out in a curved punch at his face. Turning ninety degrees to the side, he brought his right forearm up to counter the blow, formed a fist with his left, and threw it at my outstretched jaw. 

I was in trouble and charged. He threw up his forearms like an offensive lineman blocking a defensive back, but I slipped to the side, pushed his elbow down and away, caught his head, and rolled him into the floor.

I thought for a second once contact was made, and he was on his feet, watching me rush toward him in slow motion as he, even more slowly, jumped to his feet.  I reached under his shirt even as he pushed past the pool tables.

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