The Imperishable Flame⎪✓

❨09❩

♂︎

Punching the bag in front of me I huff in pure frustration, there's nothing in here that can remove the fucking pain from my mind. I'm so messed up and seeing Dakota that day placed me in the past again, Tilly has never pried as much as she's doing these days. Some part of me feels bad that she sees a need to protect me like that, I'm an adult and am capable of dealing with issues on my own. Tonight I have a fight and the sick part of me looks forward to beating the frustration out of my body. William Eastbrook even texted me yesterday to wish me good luck tonight and then asked if he could stop by and see me in the upcoming week, we agreed to meet up on Thursday. Talking to Will makes me wonder if Dakota still talks to Dani.

Wrapping my fingers for protection I look at myself in the mirror, my brown hair is falling in front of my eyes and the dark look is something I have mastered during these past few years. It's illegal to fight underground and I need to be acting the part, there isn't room for weakness in these settings. The men are fucking ruthless and either you become equal or you become an underling, I made the choice early on to be equal. 

Tilly is at home with some of her friends, they're in the middle of a movie marathon and I relax by the thought of her not being alone. That means I can focus on the fight and get the money when the buzzer sounds. Wiping the sweat off my face with a towel, I adjust the black shorts on my hips and test out some of the stances for tonight. I broke my rib a few months ago, the healing process was six weeks but there is a possibility of breaking it again if my opponent hits the right spot. Therefore I decided to keep my mouth shut about it to everyone, someone would be sick enough to use it to their advantage.

"Bullet," A man greets as he steps into the dimly lit room. I control the anger from them calling me that, there's no reason to call me by my fighting name outside the ring. Xavi always finds a way of doing so anyway. He comes closer and I can see the nasty scar running down his cheek, he ruffles his black hair and smirks at me. One would hope to have other things to care about at the ripe age of 40, apparently not though. "Didn't expect to see you here already, you do know your fight is hours away, right?"

Gulping down some water I meet his eyes as I place the bottle on the ground again, "Both of us know I'm here early every fight, is the opponent here yet?"

"No, I'm just letting you know how big of a fight this is, the entire building is booked out and I want the two of you to deliver a show."

"I'm not here to be a fucking monkey of yours."

"That's not what I ask of you, but allow yourselves to entertain the crowd," He says and raises his hands in surrender. He is half my size and I find it hilarious how he manages an underground fighting ring. "There is something about men fighting and giving off a show while doing so that makes for some great entertainment."

"And as I've said before, my mind is elsewhere out there. If the viewers want anything other than what we give them they can fuck off, I'm not here to be their entertainment for the night. Now, will you fucking leave?"

He points his finger angrily at me and starts backing away, "You really need to guard that harsh mouth of yours."

Glaring straight into his eyes I bite my tongue, the fighting spot here is something I need and something I have to stop gambling with. That surely doesn't equal to me bending my back every single time he asks me for anything and especially not pathetic shit like this. He shuts the door roughly behind him and I clench my fists, trying to control the rush of anger. 

Xavi is from a rich family and the underground fighting ring is his rebellion, he just forgets that he's in his forties and by now it seems unnecessary to be challenging his aging parents. Looking at the time on my phone I still have a few hours to kill, stepping in front of the punching bag I give it my all. Punch after punch provokes the need for a break and when I catch my breath the wheel turns again, my body screams at me as time passes. We fight with our bare knuckles underground and some part of me knows it will end badly for my fingers at some point. Before I realize it one of Xavi's assistants informs me that I have to line up now.

With a bottle of water in hand, I walk down the dark hallways of this building, with no windows and dim lighting it makes for an eerie impression and I know that's what they went for on purpose. My opponent is known for his right uppercut and his pathetic silky robe, robes are something I won't ever understand. When I step inside it's with a bottle in hand and a pair of shorts, none of that dramatic ass shit with the drop of the robe. I'm here to fight. 

The whole point of the underground aspect is to avoid the dramatics of boxing, underground helps you come in and beat someone up and thereafter receive money. No one in here wants to talk to me or see me acting some type of way out there, unless you ask Xavi of course. Reaching the door I'm assigned to enter from I go into my zone and shake my body, ridding myself from the annoyance I've felt through today. My mind is in the game and when they yell out 'Bullet' from the microphone, I open the doors roughly and they bang against the walls on each side. 

The dimmed lighting makes it hard for me to spot anyone in here, but the obnoxious cheering lets me know just how many we are in here tonight. Adrenaline slowly builds and my veins buzz with each beat from the loud music, my opponent is already in the ring and I step inside as well. He has a couple of inches on me, but I'm broader than him. The sinister smirk on his lips does nothing to me and I give him an indifferent stare in return, no need to get riled up or try to rile him up. 

The referee smiles at me and nods his head, he is a great guy and has on multiple occasions helped me in here. He grabs his microphone and informs everyone of the basic info in this fight, my eyes travel across the room. The bustling of anxious people is apparent and the light from the ring allows me to see some of the watchers on the front rows. All of their eyes are focused on me and I nod at some of the familiar faces. 

A whistle sounds and my sight cuts to my opponent instantly, he cracks his neck and I resist the urge to roll my eyes by his need to show off like that. Adjusting into my favorite stance I get into the zone. This has to be over with as soon as possible.