He liked audiences.
He stepped closer.
“You had an opinion about how hard I was going.”
Henry looked back.
“I did.”
“So show me control.”
Marcus muttered under his breath.
“This is going to end badly.”
Logan heard him.
“For who?”
Marcus looked at Henry.
Then back at Logan.
He said nothing.
That silence fed Logan's ego.
Logan stepped onto the center of the mat.
“Come on.”
Henry sighed.
“Young man, I am sixty-three.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m not interested.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Nothing.
“Thirty seconds.”
Henry shook his head.
“No.”
Derek laughed behind the phone.
“He’s scared.”
Henry looked at Derek.
Then Logan.
There was no anger in his expression.
No embarrassment.
Just tired patience.
For some reason, that irritated Logan more than an insult would have.
Logan spread his hands.
“Try not to get hurt.”
The room changed.
Marcus closed his eyes.
Trevor looked at the floor.
Henry stared at Logan for several seconds.
Then he slowly pushed the mop bucket against the wall.
He removed his rubber cleaning gloves.
Folded them.
Placed them neatly on top of the bucket.
Then he rolled up his sleeves.
Once.
Twice.
Until they rested just below his elbows.
The gym became silent.
Logan smiled.
“There we go.”
Henry kicked off his sneakers.
Then his socks.
Bare feet touched the mat.
That was when Logan noticed the scars.
Old scars crossed the top of Henry's left foot.
A thick surgical line ran near his ankle.
Several toes were slightly deformed.
They were not the feet of an ordinary sixty-three-year-old janitor.
They looked like the feet of someone who had spent decades being hit, thrown, dragged, and forced to stand back up.
Henry straightened.
The limp seemed to disappear.
Not completely.
But enough.
His shoulders settled.
His hands relaxed.
His chin lowered slightly.
His weight centered.
Marcus watched him with an expression Logan couldn't read.
Henry looked at Logan.
“Thirty seconds?”
Logan nodded.
“Unless you want longer.”
“No.”
Henry stepped onto the mat.
“Thirty is plenty.”
Derek whispered:
“This is gold.”
Henry heard him.
“No posting.”
Logan laughed.
“Why? Worried what people will see?”
Henry looked directly at him.
“No.”
Then he glanced at Trevor.
“Not everything that happens in a gym belongs to the internet.”
The sentence landed harder than Logan expected.
He ignored it.
Marcus stepped between them.
“Grappling only.”
Logan frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Henry isn't getting punched for your entertainment.”
Henry gave Marcus a faint smile.
“I appreciate the concern.”
“No slams,” Marcus continued.
Logan nodded.
“Fine.”
“No neck cranks.”
“Fine.”
Marcus looked at Henry.
“You sure?”
Henry nodded.
Then Marcus looked at Logan.
“Technical.”
Logan smiled.
“Always.”
Trevor almost laughed.
Marcus raised one hand.
“Ready?”
Logan lowered into his stance.
Henry barely moved.
“Go.”
Logan immediately reached for Henry's shoulders.
Henry shifted half a step.
The grip missed.
Logan smiled.
Again.
This time he caught Henry's wrist.
The older man did not fight it.
Logan pulled.
Henry moved with him.
Five seconds.
Logan snapped at the head.
Henry's hand appeared between them and redirected the grip.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing athletic.
Just clean movement.
Logan circled.
He expected Henry to tire immediately.
Instead, the old man seemed to be doing less than him.
That bothered Logan.
He stepped forward faster.
Left hand toward the shoulder.
Right hand reaching for an underhook.
Henry allowed him closer.
Logan felt confidence surge.
There.
He connected his hands around Henry's upper body.
Body lock.
The size difference was obvious.
Logan weighed nearly 180 pounds.
Henry perhaps 155.
Logan tightened his grip.
He whispered:
“Got you.”
Henry answered quietly.
“Not yet.”
Logan stepped his right foot deep between Henry's legs.
He planned a simple inside trip.
Nothing violent.
Just enough to put the older man on his back.
He shifted his weight.
Henry moved once.
That was all.
His left foot stepped outside Logan's.
His hips turned slightly.
His right hand controlled Logan's elbow.
His left arm slipped beneath Logan's shoulder.
Then Henry dropped his center of gravity.
Not fast.
Not explosively.
Perfectly.
Logan suddenly felt his balance disappear.
His upper body kept moving forward.
His legs no longer followed.
For one strange fraction of a second, Logan was weightless.
Then he hit the mat.
Hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.
The room went completely silent.
Logan stared at the ceiling.
Henry was already standing.
He hadn't even breathed heavily.
Thirty seconds had not yet passed.
Logan blinked.
Derek lowered the phone.
Marcus did not move.
Trevor stared at Henry.
Henry looked down at Logan.
“You okay?”
Logan didn't answer.
For the first time in a very long time, he had no idea what to say.
The Thirty Seconds
Logan pushed himself upright.
His face was burning.
Not from pain.
From embarrassment.
The fall itself hadn't been spectacular.
That was the problem.
There had been no dramatic throw.
No spinning technique.
No crushing submission.
Henry hadn't overwhelmed him with strength.
He had simply taken away his balance.
And Logan had given it to him.
Derek slowly lowered his phone.
“Dude…”
“Delete it.”
Derek blinked.
“What?”
“Delete the video.”
The words came out immediately.
Henry looked at him.
“You don't have to.”
Logan stood.
“Delete it.”
Derek hesitated.
Then he stopped recording.
Marcus finally spoke.
“Round's over.”
Logan looked at him.
“That wasn't thirty seconds.”
Marcus glanced at the wall clock.
“Thirty-one.”
A couple of fighters laughed quietly.
Logan's head snapped toward them.