Into the ring

8- Fight. Fight for your life

Light from the flickering streetlamp beside me reflected on the sharp, viciously curved blade. The man approached me and, for the first time, I saw his face clearly.

He had close-cropped black hair and a tanned skin. He was completely dressed in black and his taut muscles were practically about to tear his shirt apart. He took slow, sadistic steps towards me, and I couldn't help but cower back in fear.

Fight, Katharynna. Fight for your life. My mother's voice rang in my head. And suddenly, I could feel adrenaline rushing through my veins.

I dropped my handbag on the floor as he rushed for me, his weapon poised to attack. Impulsively, I raised my hand.
Aim for his wrist, I told myself remembering my mother's instructions. I deflected his hit and twisted his arm behind his back, earning a pained groaned from him. I was definitely more technique than physique.

I kicked him behind his knee, effectively getting him kneeled on the pavement with his arms both twisted at unnatural angles as I held them. I pressed his back on the floor and his face hit it with a sickening thud. I straddled his lower back just like I would do if he were my opponent in a ring and pressed the blade to his neck.

"I guess you chose the wrong girl to mess with tonight." I told him as he tapped out in submission.

I suddenly heard footsteps behind me. "Now that was some fighting skill you showed out here," a masculine voice said and I turned my face to see him.

"Good, then I hope you know better than to try me." He chuckled and lifted me off the guy, who took off as if he had just seen  a damn ghost.

"I wasn't done yet," I snarled at the guy.

"I haven't ever seen you at the club. You could have made some good money there." He told me

"What club?" I asked him, retrieving my handbag which was lying on the floor.

"The Underground. Never been there?" He asked me, genuinely perplexed. I studied him carefully. He had numerous scars on his face and stood a few inches taller than me. He had a piercing on his lower lip and a part of his eyebrow was shaved off. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties.

"No," I replied, "And who are you? Why are you here?" I asked, as realisation hit me.

"Relax. I thought I heard noises and came out to see. I was about to come to your rescue, but you obviously didn't need it. I'm Jace, by the way. I work at the Underground." He added extending his hand for me to shake. I took it hesitantly.

"Katharynna," I told him. "What did you mean? About me making some good money at the Underground?"

"Well, let me tell you how it works. Two fighters go against each other in the ring and each of them has to agree on a sum of money. They invest half of it each and the winner gets to take the whole of the amount. Not to mention that they get a percentage of the crowd's bets."

I thought about it for a while. Take this against my lame waitress job and you can obviously see which of the two would be better.

"Can I join it?" I finally asked him. He smiled.

"Of course. All you have to do is come with me, give me a pseudonym and yeah, well, get on the damn ring." I laughed at that. "Do you want to fight tonight?" He asked me as we walked through the streets towards the Underground.

I looked down at my clothes. I was in a large hoodie and jeans. I would be okay fighting in it.

"I would, but I don't have my gloves with me," I replied.

"I could lend you a pair."

"Can I keep my hoodie on while fighting?" I asked him.

"You can if it stays on. Can't see why you would hide such a pretty face, though," he flirted smiling.

"I just don't want people to see who I am. Heck, can I just pass for a guy in the ring?" I asked him.

He looked me over once, not in a perverted way, just seeing. "You can in that baggy hood, " he decided finally.

"Good," we had stopped infront of a staircase which led to some underground place. I could see why it was called the Underground.

I covered my face with my hood, tying the strings tightly underneath my chin. The place was huge, with graffiti-covered walls. In the middle of the room stood an elevated ring with two guys fighting like their lives depended on it, surrounded by a dense cheering crowd. As I looked carefully, I realised that I knew the guy. It was Ryder...