Chapter 7 - The Master’s Anatomy
Bennett was now completely alone on the mat.
His heart was hammering violently against his ribcage, a metallic taste of pure adrenaline flooding his mouth. His mind was screaming at him to look at the reality before his eyes: two of his best hand-to-hand fighters were lying broken on the floor without having landed a single finger on her skin.
But Bennett’s pride was an absolute, blinding disease.
He could not accept it. He could not accept that in front of two hundred service members, in front of his command, in front of the tactical unit he had mocked for twelve days, he had been utterly exposed.
"You think you're clever, huh?" Bennett growled, his voice trembling with a terrifying mix of fear and rage. He raised his heavy, tape-wrapped fists into a tight, professional boxing guard, tucking his chin deep behind his shoulder. "You think that fancy martial arts garbage works against a real striker? Come on then, princess! Step up!"
Bennett was a veteran military boxer. He had thirty amateur fights under his belt and possessed explosive, devastating power in both hands. He knew that if he could land just one clean, heavy right hook on Sarah’s jaw, her small frame would collapse instantly.
Sarah didn't offer a word of response.
She stepped slowly onto the central red circle of the mat.
Bennett exploded forward. He didn't shoot for a takedown. He launched a vicious, rapid-fire boxing combination: a heavy left jab aimed at her nose, followed immediately by a devastating, full-power right cross designed to take her head off her shoulders.
SWISH! SWISH!
The gloves cut through the air with terrifying speed.
Sarah’s defense was not boxing defense. She did not slip punches by inches, nor did she absorb them on a high guard.
As Bennett’s left jab darted toward her face, Sarah’s head ducked two inches to the left, her hands performing a double-parry technique known as The Silk Veil.
Her left palm deflected Bennett’s jab outward, altering its vector by two degrees—just enough for the heavy fist to graze the air beside her ear.
Simultaneously, as Bennett thrown his heavy right cross with everything he had, transferring his entire 195 pounds of weight onto his front leg, Sarah stepped inside the arc of the punch.
She was inside his guard before the right fist had even fully extended.
Her left forearm drove violently upward into Bennett’s exposed throat, striking the vagus nerve cluster running along his carotid artery.
THUMP!
Bennett’s eyes widened instantly. His vision exploded into a blinding curtain of white light as his central nervous system received a massive shock overload. The breath in his lungs was instantly choked off, his heavy right punch dying mid-air as his muscles lost their electrical firing signal.
Sarah didn't stop.
She executed the final, devastating sequence of the Phantom Protocol: The Triquetra Strike.
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Her right palm smashed upward into the underside of Bennett’s jaw, snapping his head backward with terrifying speed. Before his body could fall, her left elbow drove downward into his exposed solar plexus, crushing the oxygen out of his diaphragm.
Finally, Sarah seized Bennett’s left shoulder strap, executed a low sweep with her lead leg, and drove his massive, heavy body straight down into the rubber floor.
