Count On Me

Fighter

A/N: How about an extra chapter today? I kind of wrote them out of order, so this one's done, and it's my birthday today so... why not?

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SATURDAY, OCTOBER 11, 2014 | 10:45 PM | FOUR

The abandoned warehouse is in a rundown, industrial area, a nearly abandoned part of town, hard-hit by the recession. The building shows no sign of life from the outside, but inside is a hive of activity. Rough, sweaty men jeer and yell, cheering on the fighters they have bet on. The floor is so grimy that you can feel the filth even under your shoes as you walk, and rust-colored splatters of old, dried blood decorate the floors and walls. The odors of sweat, liquor and cigarette smoke are overwhelming but underneath it all I can still detect the smell of vomit.

The ref holds Amar's arm in the air announcing his victory and I cheer along with the crowd. I never watch the other fights ― just Amar's, and whatever fight is right before mine. It's important to watch sometimes so that I know my competition, but I don't want to be any more involved with the people at this place than I have to ― with these people who see two men beating each other to a pulp as entertainment, even something to profit from.

I'm not like them and neither is Amar. But it's how we're getting by. It's dangerous, but Amar and I both are good at what we do.

That night after I was jumped in the alley, Amar took me back to his place. He cleaned me up gave me a place to stay and the opportunity to make money the same way he does: in an underground fighting league. Most of the time it's pretty easy money. The fights happen usually about twice a week, and on the off days, Amar and I train together. He has become sort of like a big brother, or a mentor, to me.

Amar had been living alone before he took me in. I'll have to find my own place eventually, when Amar's boyfriend comes back in a few months. It's not like Amar and George would just kick me out, but they'll want their privacy sooner than later. A few weeks before I met Amar, George had gone to help his sister at her tattoo parlor in Oregon. She and her husband had always run the place together, but Bud was injured in a car accident and Tori needs George's help until Bud recovers.

As the next fighters make their way to the ring, Amar passes me with a bruise forming on his ribcage and a split lip. He playfully punches me in the shoulder. "Do good out there tonight, kid," he tells me. "Stay focused. I'll try to be back in time to see your match." I nod at him, bouncing on my toes and shaking out my arms to keep warmed up, and Amar jogs back toward the showers.

The next fighters step onto the mat: a guy who goes by Blade, and his opponent, Max.

Blade is my height, but he must have seventy pounds of muscle on me. While my body is strong but compact, Blade's biceps and pecs are so large I wonder how he stays upright. He's strong, there's no doubt about that, but his bulk makes him slow. I fought him a week ago, and beat him. I can see the fear in his eyes as he watches his opponent.

Max is a man a few inches shorter than me with defined muscles which are larger than mine but smaller than Blade's. He has dark skin and a few gold teeth that must have replaced his real ones after they were knocked out in the ring. Max is older than most of the contestants, but he is the most feared fighter in the league. I haven't fought him yet. I'm sure one day I will be against him in the lineup, but I can only hope that day is not any time soon. He has a reputation for being ruthless, even outright bloodthirsty. I heard that he broke a guy so badly a few months ago, that most of his body was in casts and he still can't come back to fight in the League.

I keep moving while I watch, keeping my muscles warm and loose. Blade is bigger than Max, but Max is faster, smarter, and more confident. He never hesitates.