Disclosure [h.s]

41

Harry

There is something wrong with Evelyn, I can feel it.

She has that look on her face, the typical angry look she so rarely shows. I don't even think she is aware of it, but her eyebrows are naturally frowned, her lips are closed in a thin line and she avoids looking at me every time I look at her. I might not know her for long, but I know her for long enough to know something is not right.

Before the fight started, I even blew her a kiss which I didn't receive back, not even a whisper wishing me good luck again.

Part of me wants to think it is because I'm currently in a fight, and she is worried and nervous about me. But this is not her worried expression, this is her angry expression.

What have I done this time?

As much as I would like to take my time and clarify things between us, I am a little busy at the moment. I have to focus tonight, because I can't afford to lose this fight, not after I lost one of my previous fights recently. Vincent would certainly teach me a lesson, and I don't think I can handle another beating. I have to be on the right mindset for this one.

My opponent tonight was not particularly skilled, he was a simple street fighter like I was before I joined the gang. He is here today because he probably has some pendent business with the North gang, and what better way to solve them than with a fight?

There is something so primitive about these fights, it really feels like we have gone back hundred years into the past. Nowadays people solve conflicts with discussions and arguments, but here time stopped in the past, and people still do it the old-fashioned way. Besides, this is much more profitable than just sitting down and having a conversation.

The one hundred people who are in here today will generate earnings of thousands of pounds, all in a single night. This is mostly all profit to the gang who then will spend it on weapons, drugs and alliances, well, if I win of course. If I lose, my opponent will take all the money with him, and I am left with some very angry men.

I have seen it for myself, and it's not pretty.

Before I joined the gang, I was just like this man in front of me. I was good in what I did, and I tried to empty the pockets of other gangs, or even ordinary people through fighting. And I have managed to earn a quite a lot of money through it. Illegal money of course, that is why I can't declare it.

I have been fighting in this particular gym since I arrived in London three years ago. The owner organizes several fights and I have become his election fighter. Well, until I joined the North gang, now I don't come here as often as I should.

I am awakened from my thoughts when I receive a punch right in my jaw, making me lose balance for a few seconds.

Focus Harry. You are too distracted.

After I regain my balance, I try to focus all my attention on my opponent. Usually, I never attack at first, I let them think they are winning, or think that I am weak. While they try and give their best, I am defending myself and analysing every move they make.

And I just found his weakness.

Fights can take two minutes to complete, or sometimes they last up to one hour, even if this is rather uncommon. Street fighting doesn't have as many rules as regular boxing, which means it develops rather quickly as well.

My opponent shifts most of his weight to the left side of his body, and his left hand is the dominant one. All I need to do is attack him while he least expects, on his right side to destabilize him.