Little Wolf

Ch 13 Fight Club

Check out the video to see how Little Wolf and Mac look at fighting🐺🤗 video is 3:30 minutes.

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Oddly there weren't too many cars around.

Derrick said a few of the guys ran taxi service bringing in small groups. Too many cars here would bring too much attention.

Mac was at the kitchen table with a notebook, scribbling intensely, setting up the bouts. He faced a bunch of guys lined up across from him.

"Go meet the Doc," he hollered when he saw me, barely looking up from his notes.

The doctor was an older guy about in his fifties. He was going through the inventory of medicines, prepping needles. I wondered what was in them, why he did this gig. I wondered how much he got paid for his services. I knew better to ask anything as I cleared my throat in the doorway.

"Hey, I'm your helper tonight."

He turned around and gave me a look I couldn't decipher.

"Are you legal?" the doctor asked.

I gave him a confused look.

"At least tell me you're twenty-one."

I wasn't going to tell him I wasn't, not when my birthday was so close.

"I'm legal," I said with a grin.

He just shook his head. "Why don't I believe you?" He held up his hand, stopping any other comments I might make. "Let me give you some advice, ok? Don't fight. Don't use your real name. Don't tell anyone where you live. And don't say anything about whatever you see here. Oh, and don't bet on the fights. Call me Doc; it's the only name you'll get out of me."

I gave him a thoughtful nod acknowledging his warning.

"This is how it works, " he continued. "You help the guys up here. No one leaves until they get checked out, not the winners, not the losers. That's one of the rules. Once I clear them, they can go. They get checked out in the order they finish their fights unless someone needs more urgent care. Anyone unconscious or bleeding gets bumped to the front of the line.

"There's a specially-marked garbage can in the bathroom for anything bloody. If you have to use the facilities, make it quick. That's where they do a quick wash-down to get rid of any sand or blood if they have to before they come in here; unless they need to move to the front of the line. A small stack of cheap shorts is there as well.

"You don't talk to anyone. You don't interfere with the fights. It's these guys' choice to come here. The fights go as far as they want. No matter how bad it's looking, you don't try and stop it. If you can't take it down there, then stay up here. Got it?"

I nodded. "Got it."

"Good. Go on down then and wait for my first customers."

No one was left in the kitchen, so I headed to the basement. There were probably close to a hundred guys crowded around down there, as well as a few women. The ring already had four guys in it, all wearing safety gear. Ed was in the sand with another guy ready to start a match. Mac was there refereeing.

"Match ends with first blood," Mac called out. "Ready? Go."

I was fascinated to watch the knife fight. I knew Ed was skilled, but I could tell Ed was holding back. His opponent got a slash on his arm. The guy hissed in pain. Mac clicked his stopwatch, made a note, caught my eye, and motioned me over.