His jaw locked onto his mouth guard, sucking sweat from plastic, tongue tasting it all, Cody Garbrandt saw time slow down in the middle of a fist fight when he made a choice to bite down harder. You could see that every punch he winged, be it from his hip or his heart, was thrown with the idea of getting revenge on Pedro Munhoz for all the failures of the past two years. A hundred jeers, and a thousand taunts, from ill-wishers lie in his ear, “Fuck caution, put on a show. You’ll win. You’re better. Hit him like you wish you could have hit Dillashaw. This will be glorious.” And it was – right up until Cody’s mouth clenched one last time to prevent his unconscious body from swallowing his own tongue.
No one can be the fastest gun in the west forever, it’s just too bad Cody’s gonna walk around with a clip’s worth of bullets inside his skull, but the only way fighters learn is through violence.