Knockout • OT4

7 - Tread Lightly

Michael allowed his new found friend to finish cleaning him up, taking a long drink of luke-warm water to wake the poor boy up.

He was shaken by the harsh beatings, and by no means did he think he could withstand it much longer.. but something bigger than Michaels want to succeed? Was his arrogance, his ego.

His intentions with coming to this ring were clearly about money before, his bank account mocking him and every life choice he's made thus far.

But now? He thrives off of something he never had, something so eerily new to the young fighter.

Power, Michael was high off power.

He wanted to train harder and prove himself. He would deny admitting he wanted to prove himself to the tops of the ring, but.. who else pushes him to his limits the way they do?

He knows he's good, however. The red haired fighter is quick on his feet, an easy learner when it comes to fighting in the moment, picking up on the skills and quirks of his opponents.

And he only feels like it'll get better from here.

Henry was long gone, out to go train since he booked himself for some ring time. Michael wanted to watch, allow his mind to absorb any new techniques and things to avoid when fighting.

The young fighter dug through his bag, still basking in the blissful silence that was ever so disrupted with the ringing in his ear.

Did Luke really feel the need to clock him in the side of the head?

His nimble fingers reached up to press against his ears, gently toying with them to try and wish away the barely-there ringing. However, he finally found his bottle of expired pain killers, his safe haven.

The white bottle peaked from a shirt in his bag, so he allowed himself to leave the ringing be for now and pour two to three beautiful white pills that his body had grown so addicted to, into the palm of his very beaten hand.

He reckons he saw some bandaids in there too.

He swallowed them dry, taking a seat on the bench to allow his body a solid second of recovery, and as well as a couple of minutes for the painkillers to kick in.

"Clifford! Stop wastin' our time and get up off your ass, your training with Irwin now, remember? Or did Hemmings knock you too hard in the head?"

So much for a moment of bliss.

The red haired fighter hissed as the loud voice booming through his aching skull, reaching up to massage his temples delicately before he stood up himself.

"Right.. training with-.. yea."

His responses was slurred and quiet, so much so that Calum barely heard him. Maybe this boy really was high as a kite.

"What have you taken?" the man demanded, not leaving Michael any room for negotiation or backing down. Michaels eyes only widened slightly at the sudden tone change, yet he shrugged it off, that being the same response he gave to tall fighter in front of him.

Calum rolled his eyes, stepping closer whilst observing the area around and behind Michael. Could it be molly? Weed? He's acting too slow for it to be coke.. so he wasn't looking for any white residue.

"Speak, now."

"Fucks sakes," Michael mumbled quietly, stepping back. His heart started beating faster against his chest, his pulse picking up the pace. Sure, he was just as power hungry as the other three, but in no way was he actually as powerful as them. He would cower away if that would avoid conflict.