"So like... Right now?" Ian asked the thug he was following in the empty hallways of the abandoned factory.
"Well when the fuck else then? The natives are getting restless. They want to see some blood and bone already. And you agreed." The thug said back.
"Guess I did..." Ian quietly said to himself and just followed the thug.
At the end of the hallway the thug opened a door and the light from the dim lights of the main area entered the hallway. When Ian looked through the door, he saw the inside of the fight cage and the barbaric people outside of it clinging to it and hitting it at the sight of a new sacrificial lamb.
"Now get the fuck in there!" The thug shouted at Ian and grabbed him by the collar of his sweater and shoved him through the door.
"I don't even get a chance to change?" Ian shouted to the thug while in the cage but the thug just closed the door and disappeared behind it.
He looked around while inside the cage. The cage had three walls and the fourth wall was the the hard brick wall from behind which Ian entered. Ian felt the eyes of everyone on him as he was waiting for his opponent to enter through the door. He made eye contact with certain individual people in the crowd and felt like he was in enemy territory. He knew that giving the people intimidating looks would only get him laughed at. He just looked around tried to make a cool face, but his slight nervousness was obvious. Not a single person was taking him seriously. He could single out some rude words being thrown at him from the crowd but that was nothing unusual. He took his sweater off and tossed it into the corner where it wouldn't get in the way. Some feminine voice shouted at Ian to take his t-shirt off. he did not comply with the request but just stared at the door where his opponent would soon come from.
The door opened. From the other side of the door walked out a fat middle aged tracksuit wearing man whose face looked like it was melting. The man took off his cap and wiped off the sweat from his forehead and then looked at Ian and laughed.
"Suppose I can take on this guy." Ian thought to himself.
Ian's optimism however ended when he saw who stepped out from behind the man. Staring down at Ian now was a 6"5 mean looking Nigerian man with a tied ponytail and enough size to wrestle against a small village.
"Oh fuck me." Ian said and looked at his supposed opponent.
The fat man left through the door and left the two fighters alone in the cage when a loud "Ahem" echoed in the building.
"Standing in the bloodstained corner of the fight pit is a fighter making his debut. Here is The Ox!" A voice came from a megaphone and the people laughed and booed.
"And standing in the stainless corner of the fight pit is the man with the undefeated streak of twelve victories, looking to make it thirteen. Here is the Killer!" The same voice shouted into the megaphone and the people made their admiration and blood thirst heard.
"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!" The bloodthirsty riffraff of the local area chanted in unison while banging their hands on the cage walls rhythmically.
The man known the Killer walked up to Ian and stood tall over him by almost a full head. He looked down at Ian like he had just spat at his face, even though the two men had never even seen each other before. Ian knew right away that the Killer was not someone who plays around. This man was vicious, but he did not move. He just stood there like a statue and kept looking down at Ian straight in the eyes without even blinking. Ian did his best to look like he was as tough as the Killer, but the Killer knew that this little man is just his next lunch.
"Just kill the wanker already!" Some voice from outside the cage shouted and the Killer backed Ian all the way to the wall of the cage.
Ian's back pressed against the cage and The Killer was still staring down at him. Ian knew that if he let this continue, he could never win. He threw a swing at the Killer's hard stomach, but the big man didn't even flinch. Instead her responded by throwing a massive swing right at Ian's face. Ian ducked, and the Killer's big fist hit the cage wall. Ian expected the man to hurt his hand from that, but that was not the case. The Killer was not bothered by the missed swing for a microsecond, but instead used the same hand to hit Ian with a hard backfist in the cheek. Ian's head swung and he took a step back, and that's when the Killer took advantage of his victim's guard being down and landed a massive hit on Ian's gut. And another. And a third. Only then Ian protected his gut with his arms and took steps back. When he looked up, the Killer was already coming towards him. The Killer swung his hand and Ian ducked it by jumping to the side. Ian landed some light hits on the Killer's gut that had no effect. The Killer responded with a light swing to the side of Ian's head that staggered the newcomer. Ian put his hands up to protect his face but the Killer just punched the side of Ian's head again, knocking him down to the mat. Ian already knew that this place had the ten count rule when someone gets knocked down. Ian was holding his head up while laying there on his side and looking at the ankles of the Killer. Ian shook his head a little and stood up. The referee looked at Ian from a distance to see if he was out, but when Ian was firmly on two feet again, the referee let the fight continue.
"I can't beat this guy by going right at him. I have to use my speed. Maybe some tactics. Maybe something underhanded even." Ian though and stared at the Killer.
He bumped his own fists together and gestured to the Killer to bring it on. The Killer gladly complied and came towards Ian with his fists raised. The Killer threw a big and predictable swing that Ian ducked under, but as he ducked, the Killer stamped on Ian's foot, causing Ian to lose balance and then eat a massive shot to the gut. The gut shot caused Ian to bend over, and then receive a massive swing to the side of his head, sending him crashing to the canvas.
"Fuck. That big fucker did exactly what I intended to do." Ian thought as he was laying cheek first on the canvas with his drool leaking out of his mouth.
"I'm not out yet. Just need to get this useless body up. But what do I do when I get up? Same thing I did the last time? No, that won't work. This guy is not just big and jacked. He knows how to cheat too. Do I just avoid his shots and win by points? They don't count points here. Knockouts and stoppages only. My only hope is landing a lucky shot that hits him in that light switch. Right. Got to just count on that..." Ian kept thinking on the ground while letting his body rest.
"And ten!" The referee shouted while standing over Ian and then waved the fight off.
"What? Did I lose? Are you taking the piss right now? I was game planning!" Ian thought in his head while still staying in the same position, cheek first on the canvas.
"Killer! Killer! Killer! Killer!" The people were now chanting.
Ian flipped over and sat up to look around. He saw the referee raising the Killer's hand before they both left through the door. Ian stood up and felt like he could go another round, not feeling any effects of the beating. He shook his head and stood there alone in the cage. In came Ronnie to check on him and he was about to drape Ian's shoulder over his neck before Ian shoved him away.
"I'm fine. I can walk out myself." Ian bitterly said and walked alone towards the door leading out.
"Bruv, you took a heavy shot there. You sure you're alright?" Ronnie asked from behind but Ian just ignored him and kept walking.
In the hallway leading out of the fighting ring Ronnie caught up with Ian and together they met with Bloodhound in his office. When Ian walked into the office room with his own two feet, Bloodhound was visibly surprised.
"My man here told you that you died from a massive blow to the head and you weren't even moving. Now you're here?" Bloodhound said to Ian who came over to the desk looking like he was here to collect.
"Just get me the money." Ian said with blood leaking out of his ear.
"Right. You agreed to the fight and that alone is worth half the winner's pay. So here it is." Bloodhound said and pulled a stack of bank notes from under his desk.
He slapped the stack on Ian's waiting hand. Ian then squeezed the stack and was ready to put it in the pocket of his joggers before Ronnie coughed loudly.
"Count them." Ronnie said to Ian.
Bloodhound looked annoyed. Ian counted every thin bank note in the stack and after he finished counting he looked at Bloodhound with an icy expression.
"It's short. This ain't what you promised." Ian said, not angrily, not threateningly, just icily.
"Fuck's sake. Alright then! There's the rest that we agreed!" Bloodhound said and smacked a few more banknotes on the desk.
Ian took them and counted them. When the end result was to his satisfaction, he put all the money in his pocket.
"Cheers." Ian said and turned away.
"You might want this back, bruv." Ronnie said and handed Ian his sweatshirt
"Oh. Right. Cheers." Ian said icily and put on his sweatshirt.
While Ian's head was still inside the shirt, the door of the office slammed open and heavy steps could be heard. Ian put his shirt fully on and looked into the direction of the voice. It was the fat man in the tracksuit with the Killer walking behind him, both looking angry.
"This is not what we agreed! Where's the rest of the fucking money, ya fucking cheapskate?" A voice called.
"Oh, was it short? My mistake!" Bloodhound said and sounded like he was caught and terrified.
"That was not a bloody mistake, ya fucking scammer." The fat man accused.
"Here's the rest of the cash with some extra to compensate for the mistake. Now shut up and leave my office!" Bloodhound said and threw a stack of money to the Killer.
The Killer counted the money and looked pleased.
"This should do." The Killer said in his deep voice.
"He tried to do the same to me." Ian said to the Killer.
"So he really is just a dirty fraud." The Killer said and chuckled.
"Guess so." Ian said and shrugged.
"No hard feelings, brother." The Killer said to Ian.
"It's just competition." Ian replied to the Killer and shrugged again.
"Maybe one day we'll fight again once you're ready." The Killer said and walked away while smelling his money.
Ian and Ronnie both left Bloodhound's office and went back to the ground floor where all the rest of the people were.
"What a shit fucking fight that was. I wasn't even out." Ian complained to himself out loud while walking alongside Ronny among the people, as invisible to them as he was when coming in.
"Hey. At least ya got paid. You gonna fight again? There's fights here daily." Ronnie asked.
"This amount of money won't cover what I need. Not even close. So I'll have to fight here again or find a different way to make money. Can't really take a job 'cause that'd get in the way of my studies."
"You could just come here every night, throw the fight and get the loser's pay. Eventually you'd have enough."
"That's... Not actually a bad idea. Just take one punch and pretend to be knocked out. I'll be a laughing stock here but I don't honestly care what these people think of me."
"Great idea innit, bruv. Maybe I'll accept the fight tomorrow and be your opponent. I'll smack ya real good in the dome and you'll go down and we both get paid." Ronnie suggested.
"That'd be too obvious."
"Yeah, maybe you're right. But it's still a good idea in general."
"It is. It is."
"I'll see ya 'ere tomorrow then."
"I hope so. But I can't stick around longer. School tomorrow and it's stupid late. I won't get anywhere near enough sleep tonight but I want to at least get a little. See ya tomorrow. Outside the factory again?"
"That works."
"Alright. But don't fucking come early like tonight." Ian requested.
"Said the actress to the bishop." Ronnie added and chuckled.
Ian just looked at Ronnie like he was not impressed at all.
"What? You gave me the opportunity and I seized it. But sure, I'll be here at the time we agreed for tonight." Ronnie said.
"Good. See ya." Ian said and turned to walk away from the factory.
18Please respect copyright.PENANACpirxqHZY5
Outside the factory Ian took his money out of his pocket to make sure that it was still there. Then he took his keys out to also make sure that he still had them. He put them back in his pockets and looked at the road leading out of the dark industrial district where music was blaring behind him.
"Right then. Same way I came in. I'll be stinky when I get home and taking a shower would wake mum up. Oh well." Ian said to himself and got running.
When he reached his home street, none of the houses had lights on. He ran past the houses that he always passes by and saw the dark insides of them. Even in the darkness he could see the bling of the valuables inside the living rooms of some of the houses. It all seemed very tempting but Ian thought it best to just go straight home. At the end of the quiet suburban street he came to his house where the lights were off too.
"Better not be anyone awake now or I'll have to think of a cover story on the spot. If mum is awake, I'll just say I was taking a midnight run. Not even technically a lie." Ian thought to himself while breathing heavily by the door.
He very quietly inserted the key into the lock and twisted it open slowly. The locking mechanism made a clicking sound that sounded to Ian much louder than it actually was. Ian froze every muscle and stopped what he was doing to listen if any sounds could be heard from inside the house. No sound was heard, so Ian twisted the key the rest of the way and slowly pulled the door open. Then came the next dangerous part. Closing the door. The door was pushed shut at the speed of one inch per second, and when the locking mechanism clicked in place, to Ian it felt like the entire neighbourhood must have heard it. He stayed frozen in place to hear if any sound came from the house now.
A quiet groan came from upstairs from the direction of his mother's bedroom, and Ian started wording his cover story in his head. The groan however was not followed up by any other sound. For the first time since pushing his key in the keyhole, Ian took a breath after holding it for a painful amount of time.
"I think I'm good." He thought and carefully stepped the stairs up in his trainers and then entered his room without touching the door that was already open. He crashed in the bed still wearing his sweaty outfit and trainers, and just stayed in one position for the rest of the night, laying there like a ragdoll.
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