Vertigo

Chapter One - Brass Knuckle Bill

The pain was brilliant, perhaps even too much so. I stumbled back, savouring the sting in my face, and again as I ducked under her second punch. I felt my cheek grow in size, blurring out the corner of my vision and tried putting the pain aside, reminding myself that pain had only been real if I allowed it to be so. But, it had been real; undeniably so.

I raised my hands, parrying her next blow before slipping to the centre of the cage. Come on Alli, all you have to do is control the centre, I told myself.

The girl smiled as she hopped forward, mockingly. Her black hair hung over her face, plastering itself against her forehead. She raised her fist, stepping close enough to see the beads of sweat that dripped down her forehead. She had been tired, but not enough. She twisted quickly, sending a barefoot flying towards my face, snapping against the side of my temple before I could raise my arms. I hit the ground with a hollow thud.

The sound of the audience blurred out now, their faces blur through the wire of the cage around us. Even my manager, Tristan's voice had been filled with static, but I knew what had been yelling. Get up.

Another blow landed into my side, bringing me back to the fight with a sickening crack. I rolled onto my back just in time to see her foot stretched up high, coming crashing down in a wide arch. My eyes widened, willing my body to roll over as a smiled crept up the side of my face. The ring shook as her heel crashed down, sending a wave of pain through her body giving me just enough time. I pushed forward, driving my shoulder into her gut before rushing forward, slamming her back into the steel mesh. She gasped for air as I started driving my knee into her side, my arms locked into hers. She raised her leg in instinct, trying to block the barrage of blows, and it was over.

I hooked my foot into hers, throwing her off balance before twisting, driving her back into the hard wooden floor — I raised my fist, throwing a single blow into her cheek before the ref pulled me off, raising my hand. I gave a bloody grin as the crowd stared in confusion before leaving the ring, walking past the girls' manager with a smug look on my face, and pushed through the large steel door.

The entire arena had been built inside an underground parking area, separated in three sections — the cage, the locker rooms and brass-knuckled Bill's office that overlooked the ring. I walked towards the stairs to collect my winnings and pushed through the door. The room had looked nothing like the rest of the building – furnished with wooden floors, bookshelf and tiny trinkets. Two large men stood beside an even larger wooden desk, running wards of green paper through machines that counted them — both with stoney expressions plastered on their faces. The room reminded me of a man I met in London who went by an Egyptian name. But, the man behind this desk had been nothing like him — his face had been twisted so deeply into a frown that it seemed to have scarred, his eyes narrow with constant rage, and dressed in the most unsophisticated manner he could – a tank top and jeans with a large pair of brass knuckles on each hand. A nameplate with the name Bill had been placed onto the desk.

"Get out. I don't owe you anything." He spoke. His words seeming final.

"What the hell do you mean? I won the fight. I get my money, that was the deal!" I yelled, slamming my palms into the desk so hard that they stung, undoubtedly turning red. The two bodyguards stopped, staring at me. Bill said nothing for a few moments then simply standing up.

"The deal was you throw the fight and then walk off with your money. Simple, easy, painless."

"I had no choice. If I didn't finish her off, there was no walking out of there!"

He grabbed hold of my throat, pulling me towards him and off the ground. My heart stood still as he leaned forward, looking into my eyes. His were dark, so dark they looked black. "You seem like a good kid, so I'll give you some advice. Leave my office or you won't walk out of here, or anywhere, ever again."

"Give her money, she's earned it." A familiar voice sound from the doorway as Bill set me down. I fell, hitting the ground, grabbing hold of my throat, breathing erratically. "You okay, Alli?"

I nodded as Bill narrowed his eyes even further. "Big Boy, want do you want?"

"Girl's under my protection, in case you didn't know." Big Boy spoke. Big Boy had been the first words of English his grandparents had learnt after moving to New York from Africa. He had been their 'big boy' and since then, he'd really grown into the name. He was muscular and tall, but not as tall as any of the men in the room and yet, carried around enough weight to make even Bill settle in his chair. He reached under his desk, grabbing an envelope, throwing it at Big Boy as I walked towards him.

"Say thank you to the kind, sir, Alli," He said with a sarcastic smile spread across his face. I grabbed the envelope from him and turned around, showing my middle finger at the brass-knuckled thug before slipping out the door. "You know," he spoke as the door shut behind us, "you can't keep doing this."

"I can, and I will." I responded, blowing up my cheeks. The swell stung, forcing me to quickly compose myself. "Could have handled it without you."

"I don't doubt it." He laughed as he nudged me forward, towards his car.