"The Underground Fighter and His Kitten"
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Sasha "Kayo" Sokolov is a Russian fighter who was sent to America at a young age. One day, he met a young girl by the name of Everleigh Wilson, who taught him how to speak English, and helped him with his s...
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"Kayo! Kayo! Kayo!" they chanted. With that, I stood, flexing my biceps as I screamed in pure adrenaline. Everyone's cheers grew louder at the sight of me, Kayo. Hastings always paid me extra when I gave these sick fuckers a show.
I grabbed a towel that was being handed to me by some lady and walked out of the ring. I used it to wipe away some of my opponents blood that managed to mix with my sweat.
Immediately, the girl that had given me the towel was at my side, batting her eyelashes at me with a smile on her cherry red lips.
"You did good," she complimented. I continued walking, heading to the restroom.
"I know," I stated, handing her back her towel and opening the bathroom door. She began to speak but I slammed the door in her face and locked it.
"Kayo, huh?" a voice questioned. I looked over to see a man in a suit over in the corner with a cigarette in his mouth. He wore a smirk on his face as he began to walk closer to me.
"I remember watching you when you were just a boy," he said. I narrowed my eyes at the man as his loud shoes echoed in the dimly lit restroom.
"You have no idea what Hastings signed you up for, do you?" he asked, chuckling lightly.
"All these fights you been winning have just been easy. You're nearing the big league now... with men that have fought a thousand times and never lost," he said, the stupid smirk never falling from his face. He clearly didn't know what the hell he was talking about. I have been fighting for ten years, and have never lost a single match.
He took a long swig of his cigarette before blowing out the air very slowly.
"If you win somehow tomorrow—defeating clown killer, you will then have to go against Kane, Rampage, and then you'll be left with Kyle. Now, I know you know Kyle wants you dead. Kyle channels his anger into his fighting, and you damn sure pissed him off. I can guarantee Kyle will kill you," the man warned me.
"What the fuck do you want?"
He laughed. "So eager, aren't we?"
I took a step closer to him, ready to knock the son of a bitch out when he held up his hand.
"Lose to Clown Killer tomorrow night, and I'll make sure he won't kill you. That way, you don't even have to worry about Kyle. I'll even slip you twenty-percent," he said.
Suddenly, I recognized him. He was Clown Killer's coach; just like Hastings was mine.
Twenty-percent was a lot. It was probably half of his cut for the fight. He really thought he could wait around in the bathroom, knowing it was my first destination after every fight, try to scare me with some bullshit, and then get me to lose a fight. I didn't want his share because my share would be worth so much more. To hell with his offer. And if Kyle wanted a fight, I wanted nothing more than to give it to him. I feared no one.
