His arms were held out, his torso exposed, and Terrence now held the knife.
Cage pulled his arms inward, testing the strength of those who held him. They were firm. Firm enough? He didn't know.
This could go poorly, very poorly, for him. Even if he won this fight, what did he win? But if he lost? Cage had some very good guesses how badly that would go. There was no conceding here. So, he had to fight and he had to win.
“I've had enough of your bullshit,” Terence said.
Cage fought the smile for a heartbeat, before deciding to let it bloom.
“What's so funny?” Terrence demanded, his knuckles white where he gripped the worn handle.
“You swear like a child, you absolute fuck knuckle.” Joule would be proud of him.
More importantly, it had the desired effect, making Terrence lunge.
Placing all of his weight on the two holding him, Cage jumped. They'd left his feet unattended, and he would have thought that they would have learned.
Besting Terrence would not be easy this time, not with three of them. So, Cage went for it. He kicked Terrence in the chest, using him for force and the hold on his arms as anchors as he flipped up and over.
It was a move he'd never tried before, and it really didn't work.
The two on either side of him were not prepared either for his weight or for the twist in their hands, and they let go far too early. Cage managed to get his hands down and barely stopped the hardwood floor from cracking his head as his rotation carried him around just enough to jam his toes into the ground. At least it wasn’t his knees, or his face.
He scrambled to his feet, the knife on the ground between him and where Terrence had dropped it from the sudden kick. Dude was trying to get up off his back. Unfortunately, the fucker had fallen onto a mattress, having gotten a much softer landing than Cage did. The only good thing it did was make it a little harder for him to get up.
Taking advantage of the half moment that he was granted, Cage let the anger of the situation diffuse through him. The two who held him were ones that he had fed.
Turning, he glared at them. “Are we done?”
Neither answered. Their eyes moved toward Terrence as if to ask him what they should do.
“Grab him!” Terence commanded, though as they started to move to do his bidding, they were more tentative this time.
Cage balled his hands into fists, only making threatening gestures at this point. He wasn’t ready to throw anything. But he stared at Terrence, who was once again standing on his own two feet and staring Cage down.
Cage opened his mouth, hoping his words carried to the ones who had held him. But, as he began, he realized the whole room should take it as an address. “If you side with Terrence, you get what Terrence gets.”
Terrence’s eyes narrowed but, for half of a heartbeat, there was a flicker of fear.
Good, Cage thought.
On either side of him, the two still remained uncertain if they should reach out and hold him or not.
That was okay. Maybe he would get a fair fight.
Between him and Terrence, the knife still lay on the floor. Cage thought of the old adage about not starting a fight, but ending it. His original intent was to meet aggression with aggression. But if he did, then Terrence would always step up.
Instead, he would have to go for intimidation. Stepping forward, he moved himself closer to the knife than Terrence was.
“Try me,” he said, and kicked the knife to his opponent.
Startled at the gesture, Terrence reached down and snatched it up. A snarl curled his lips, as though Cage had made a mistake, as though he didn't realize he'd been set up.
Cage could only hope it worked, but he didn't let any of that show on his face. He could only hope the two beside him didn't interfere. If they thought the tide was turning, and Terrence might get ahead in this fight, they might try to hold him down again. And that could be the end of him.
It was possibly the worst decision he'd ever made. But as Cage watched, the two beside him slowly backed up, surely afraid of a man willing to kick the only knife to his opponent.
Terrence was not as unskilled as the first attacker. And Cage didn't have enough eyes or arms to worry about what was behind him. He could only hope they were intimidated enough to stay put.
Terrence lunged, stabbing with the knife. But Cage saw it coming and deftly slid to the side. He would have liked to reach up and block him—jabbed or grabbed something—but Terrence was quick. Maybe quicker than he'd been the first time.
Maybe he'd learned. But Cage had learned, too. This time when Terrence stabbed at him Cage was ready. He didn't even go for the knife. He stepped aside and then forward, moving into Terence’s personal space, putting the knife beyond him. He now had to control the arm before Terrence could try to turn the knife and stab him in the back.
Cage once again wrapped Terrence’s forearm, controlling it. He shouldn’t be able to use the same move twice, but he did. And it told him a lot about Terrence.
He took advantage of the surprise. Bringing up the heel of his hand under Terence’s chin at a high speed, Cage heard teeth clack and maybe crack as his opponent’s head whipped back with the startling hit.
The kid howled and Cage felt a momentary pang of pity. The kid was surely just a product of his environment. Too bad. Cage didn’t start this fight. He’d ended one before and it hadn’t been enough. He had to do more this time.
He had to make a move now, one that was solid enough and strong enough to quell any future attacks, too. Though he hated it, he used the arm he held and swung around so he could face the rest of the room.
Cage repeated his earlier warning. “Anyone who sides with Teen Woof here gets what Teen Woof gets.”
He still controlled Terrence’s arm, and he had to be quick before the kid recovered and made another move. So he brought his free elbow down across Terence’s forearm and heard the sickening crack of bone.