I duck to one side of W's punch, catching it in my right hand, and twist downward, torquing the fighter's upper arm out and away from his body. Into the opening between shoulder and pectoral I shove a sharp jab, fingers held hard and stiff; I'm hoping to crack the collarbone or at the least severely bruise some muscle in there. A simian, rustling laugh escapes me as I bob closer, intending to duck inside of W's guard.