For the first three minutes, Viktor didn't strike. He danced. He used the brothers' momentum against each other, staying on the periphery, making the Five trip over their own shadows. He was "buying time," letting the adrenaline dump wear them out.
Viktor stood in the center of the ring, his knuckles taped, his breathing slow. He wasn't a giant, but he moved with the economical grace of a man who had spent a decade in the shadows. Tonight’s contract was "Five Against One." For the first three minutes, Viktor didn't strike
As Viktor walked out of the ring, bruised and bloodied, the promoter approached him with a stack of bills. For the first three minutes