by Raven Steele
"Who are you?" asked a tall, beefy man with more hair on his body than his head. Another guy stood opposite him, eyeing me up and down.
"I've been invited. I'm fighting tonight."
"Name?"
"Adam Smith."
The man glanced down at an electronic pad in his hand. He looked up a moment later and nodded at the other guy, who pressed a button to open the gates.
"You have a car?" the man asked.
"I prefer to walk," I said as I went through the gates.
"You're crazy to do that in Pigtown, but it's your life."
I had never been this close to Victor's estate before. I had seen pictures and walked along the outside many times. A few years ago, I was obsessed with wanting to break in to beat the living hell out of him, but eventually that had faded when I realized that wouldn't solve the city's problem. Another bad guy would just take his place. I needed to tear down the whole network.
In front of the Devil's Playground, a wide circular driveway bordered a large fountain spraying water several feet into the air. Colored lights shone from the water, illuminating the immediate darkness. Several vehicles were already here and parked in a lot off to my left. I guessed it would get much more crowded as the night went on. It was barely eight after all.
I walked up several steps to a pair of ornate double doors. Two men in black tuxedos stood on each side. One of them opened the door and allowed me entrance. I stepped inside, my jaw dropping. I had never seen anything so fancy before. The tiled floor was a shiny black, and a chandelier made of metal curves and spines twisted and wrapped around each other above me. Two sets of staircases swept up to a second floor, their handrails a shiny silver. I could only describe the area as a beautiful darkness.
Sounds of partying echoed off the walls. I looked down a long, dark hall toward the direction of the music. Carrying my sports bag, I went into the dark space. The only light provided was a single strand of blue rope lighting on the ceiling. By ten o'clock, this hall would probably be filled with customers waiting to get in.
The hall ended with two more black double doors. I pushed them open and entered the club. Cages hung from the ceiling with women dancing provocatively inside. A bar with a counter half the size of the club took up the whole left side of the great room. The club was about half full, dozens of people mingling about, but that would change soon. My plan was to be long gone before it became too crowded.
In the center of the room was an elevated boxing ring. It would've looked completely out of place if there weren't several women inside it dancing to the beat of the music.
Just the sight of it made my pulse dance, my breath to quicken. I needed to burn off some energy. Punching someone in the face always made me feel better.
A couple of bouncers were just inside the doorway and seemed surprised to see me.
"You don't look like one of the desperate ones," one of them said to me. A tattoo of a pirate was on his forearm.
"Desperate?" I asked.
"Sure," he said and nodded to a crowd of people already on the dance floor. "Only the desperate ones show up early."
"I'm here to fight."
He chuckled. "Good luck. The guy fighting tonight is undefeated."
"So I've heard." I crossed the room away from the DJ's loud music. Several women and some men turned and looked my direction, but I kept my focus straight ahead. Oz was here somewhere. I needed to find him and fast, before he was questioned.
No one could know who I was. My identity was the only element of surprise I had on Victor. Right now, Victor thought he was chasing a simple vigilante, but if he knew who I was and that I was just as powerful as him, his ruthlessness in trying to catch me would increase. No one would be safe.
A pretty, blond woman with hooded blue eyes stepped in front of me. "Dance with me?"
"I'm busy." I slipped by her and continued to the corner where I could be hidden within the shadows. I didn't like being in this room, closed in with this many people without an easy escape. It made me feel like a caged animal.
Once I was alone as possible, I closed my eyes and focused my hearing. The loud beat of the music pulsed in my eardrums, making it nearly impossible to hear anything beyond it. I groaned in frustration and opened my eyes.
On the other side of the room, Victor entered through a side door that must lead outside. He was surrounded by several bodyguards. I stepped to my left around a long column to better keep an eye on him through the crowd. He wore dark slacks and a red silk shirt, his first two buttons opened.
By the way he carried himself and how fit he looked, I would've guessed him to be thirty-five instead his actual age of closer to sixty. This made me wonder if the V genes in his blood made him not age as much as other humans. This is something I would have to explore more at Bodian.
Victor worked the room as if he were king. People circled about him either to earn his praise or because they feared his wrath. I hated watching the show.
This gave me an idea.
Knowing where Victor was might make it easier for me to search for Oz. Gripping my duffle bag, I dove back into the crowd, weaving my way toward the entrance and trying not to get bumped around by the dozens more people who had just come in.
"Adam?" A hand clamped down on my shoulder.
I flexed under the pressure but didn't jerk away. I turned around.
Victor smiled. "I heard you were put on the schedule to fight. What changed your mind?"
"Curiosity, I guess."
"Curiosity?"
"I keep hearing how good the fighters are here, so I came to find out if anyone can give me some competition."
Victor's eyebrows lifted. "You're that confident in your abilities?"
"I don't want to brag…" I let my voice trail off, waiting for Victor to take the bait. From years of watching him, I knew the kind of people he liked to surround himself with. They couldn't show an ounce of fear.
Victor smirked and slapped the arm of his bodyguard on his right. "This new kid thinks he can take on Hacksaw. What do you think?"
"I think this child will get his ass kicked," the guard said turning away from me.
"I don't think so." Victor stepped close to me and lifted his head a little, his nostrils flaring as if he were smelling me. "There's something about you kid. I can't put my finger on it, but I sense strength. I'm going to bet on you tonight, and you better not lose. You see, a lot of my money has been disappearing lately so I'm counting on a big win tonight. Do you understand?"
I locked eyes with him, an action that tightened my stomach. "I won't lose."
"Good. Now go have some fun. There are plenty of ladies here just waiting to sink their teeth into you." He turned away and continued his parade through the crowd.
I exhaled through puckered lips and forced my way toward the exit. I needed to find Oz, and I had less than an hour to do it. I had to come up with some kind of plan to get him out of here, but I couldn't do that if I didn't know where he was.
At the door, I asked a security guard, "I'm fighting soon. Where's the dressing room?"
The large man pointed down the hall. "Turn right and go up the first flight of stairs. You'll see the locker room up there. If we find you anywhere else, we'll break both your arms and still make you fight. Got it?"
I nodded and walked away. It didn't take me long to find the dressing room. I slipped inside, dumped my bag in a changing room with lockers and a long bench, then left the room to explore the rest of the place. If I did get caught, I might actually enjoy seeing how they might break my arms.
I walked quietly down the hall, expanding my hearing as far as it would go. I was above the club. The bass vibrated the floor, but at least I could hear better up here. Most of the rooms I passed were quiet. A few times I risked opening a door to see what lay beyond, but found only untouched bedrooms. In any other similar establishment, this might seem odd, but nothing Victor did surprised me.
At the end of the hall, I discovered another s
taircase. This one led me back to the main level on the other side of the club.
Footsteps approached.
I ducked inside what I thought was going to be a closet, but in actuality it was a half-bathroom with a window at the far wall. I stepped to it and peered out in case I needed to make a quick escape. We weren't too high up, fifteen feet maybe.
I peeked out the door just as a maid passed by carrying a six-pack of beer. She walked in a direction that looked like it led back to the club, but that didn't make sense. Beer wasn't needed there. They already had plenty of it, and I doubt she was sneaking off to drink it herself.
I opened the door and followed the sounds of her steps as she rounded a corner. Another door opened and closed. I waited a full minute, then opened the same door, revealing a long staircase that led to a basement.
I listened closely. There were distant voices, but too far away to decipher individual words. I quietly descended the steps, pausing at the bottom until I couldn't see or hear anyone nearby before leaving the safety of the staircase.
The basement was massive, spanning the whole length of the building with only supporting pillars to break up the large space, which was mostly empty. The floor was still concrete and only a few walls had been constructed or were under construction. In other parts, plastic sheets hung from the ceiling all the way to the concrete. Most of the lights were off except for a section in the back corner.
Why would the maid have come down here?
I kept my head on a swivel as I quietly snuck across the open room toward the lighted area that was surrounded by more plastic. The maid was almost to it. I hated being out in the open with nowhere to hide should I need to, but I didn't have a choice.
The maid parted the plastic and walked into the sectioned-off space.
"It took you long enough," a high-pitched, male voice said.
"Well, I sort of have a lot going on up there," she said.
"Don't be mad, Layla," another male voice cooed. "We were just getting bored down here. A few drinks will really fix that."
"Whatever. Just don't ask for anything else the rest of the night." She parted the plastic and headed right for me, but she was still looking back at the men shaking her head. I scurried behind a partly finished wall best I could. All she had to do was look to her left and she would see my shoulder poking out.
When she passed, I proceeded forward carefully.
"Toss me one of those," one of the men said.
"Do you want to play cards?" the other man asked. "It might be a long night."
The sound of a chair sliding against the concrete floor echoed in the great room. "I don't know why he insists on interrogating this kid himself."
I lifted my head. He's got to be talking about Oz, which means I've made it in time. Oz is still alive and probably hasn't said much yet."
Someone shuffled a deck.
"You know," the high-pitched male voice said, "I bet I could break him under a minute. Watch this."
I heard the distinct sound of something heavy flying through the air, followed by a painful yelp.
Oz.
19
I reached the last curtain partition and risked a glance between two sheets. Two men sat at a small circular table, a deck of cards spread out before them along with open beer cans. Just beyond them was Oz. He was tied to a chair, his head lowered and blood dripping down from a cut on his forehead. His left eye was also swollen and black.
I contemplated my next move. The ski mask was in my back pocket, so I could rush in and grab Oz now, but if I didn't make the fight, Victor might suspect me of helping Oz.
I puffed air through my nose. The best course of action would be to save Oz after the fight. He should be okay until then.
As much as I didn't want to, I snuck back to the locker room without being seen. If Victor wanted to question Oz, that probably meant he hadn't said anything about who I was. All I had to do was get Oz far from here, and Victor would never know the truth.
I changed into my boxing shorts and pulled on a blue silk robe that had been hanging in a locker. I checked the covering on my tattoo one last time and sat down to wait for the man I was supposed to fight, but he never came. I was hoping to size up my competition. Not because I was nervous, but because I wanted to plan my fighting strategy ahead of time.
Ten minutes before the fight, the door opened. A shorter man wearing a business suit, his head full of silver hair, nodded at me. "They are waiting for you downstairs."
"I'm ready." I stood up.
The older man's eyes followed the length of my body. "You're tall, but the other guy's bigger. You'll be lucky to come out of this with just a broken nose."
"You think so?"
He turned around and walked out the door. I followed after him. Over his shoulder he said, "You're just like all the rest who come trying to make a name for themselves. But son, there's no glory here. Just misery buried by dollar signs."
"They are about to be buried by a lot more," I mumbled.
The man guided me down the stairs and back into the club. Bright spotlights on the ceiling shined in all directions, moving constantly about the room illuminating the crazed faces of the crowd. A long aisle had been sectioned off with rope, providing a path for me to walk straight to the boxing ring.
I pulled the hood of my robe over my head and proceeded down the path. No one paid any attention to me except for a few people who jeered at me in passing. But when I hopped up into the ring, the crowd exploded into a mixture of cheers and boos. I couldn't imagine a worse place to be right now.
A microphone from above boomed: "Our first fighter for the evening is a newcomer. He is so new that we're not going to bother with his name. You have to earn one of those around here."
Cheers and whistles sounded. I flexed my jaw muscles. One day they would know my real name, Aris Crow, the man who saved the city.
"Mr. No Name will be fighting someone you all know and love. Put your hands together and welcome back Hacksaw!"
The crowd went wild, making adrenaline flood my veins, and my pulse race. The spot light shined in the opposite corner of the room. A giant of a man, his face covered by the hood of his robe, strolled down an aisle surrounded by an entourage of people. The older man with silver hair was right. This guy was huge! Not only was he bulging with muscles, but he must've been at least seven feet tall, too.
I paced the ring and narrowed my eyes at him. Something was familiar about him. He walked slightly hunched over and his arms were exceptionally long. The closer he came, the stronger the feeling came. I knew him!
Hacksaw rolled under the ropes and into the ring. He slowly unfolded himself, rising to his full height and rolled his shoulders back. His robe fell to the floor dramatically, exposing a ratty mop of black hair on top of his head. Just like I thought. The creepy man I had met in the alley when I had saved Emma. What had he called himself? A watcher of the night?
The giant’s face slowly lifted until his eyes opened and met mine. There was a flash of recognition. He seemed to be just as surprised as I was to see him. I didn't flinch or look away. There was nothing about him that frightened me, but I had to give him credit. His gaze was full of aggression. This would make for an interesting fight.
I searched the audience until I locked eyes with Victor. He was standing in the crowd just a few rows behind Hacksaw. Victor nodded at me once, his expression stone.
A referee jumped into the ring and stepped between me and Hacksaw. He looked at each of us. "Play until one of you can no longer move."
He said a few more words explaining the rules, or lack of rules, really. This would not be a clean fight. The only thing you couldn't do was kill, but I had a feeling that even that might be acceptable.
"You ready?" he asked me. I nodded and he asked the same of Hacksaw. Hacksaw growled, which I think meant yes.
"Fight!" the announcer yelled and scurried off the mat.
I walked to the center of the ring as Hacksaw circled me. He
shuffled back-and-forth, his feet dancing along the mat. His eyes never left mine, and at one point he even snarled.
I wasn't worried about fighting this giant, but I was worried about making sure my tattoo stayed covered. I also was unsure how long to keep the fight going for. Victor probably preferred a show than to have it be over too quickly. I also needed to make sure to give myself some time after the fight to save Oz. If I was injured, I could use that as an excuse as to why I didn't return to watch the fight scheduled directly after this one.
Hacksaw lunged at me. I ducked under his swing and sidestepped out of the way. I offered my own jabs, all the while studying his fighting style.
He drew his fist back. I'd let him have the first punch. I deliberately slowed my momentum backwards and allowed his fist to catch the side of my cheekbone. Excruciating pain exploded in my face, and my body flew through the air. I hit the ground hard.
What the hell?
I looked up at him, stars crowding my vision. Hacksaw winked at me and motioned me to come at him.
Shaking my head as if to clear the haze from my mind, I came to my feet. This wasn't a regular human. So what was he?
I finished collecting myself and lunged for him, just missing another one of his power hits. I spun around and punched him in the ribs. He flinched, but the force I hit him with should've dropped him.
Time to step up my game.
I backed away from him as he swung at me. I took those few seconds to focus on the power within me. The dark energy surged to life as if it had been waiting for me all along. I growled and leapt into the air, my arm cocked back. I smashed into his face before he could block me.
He stumbled into the ropes behind him. It was his turn to be surprised.
I was about to step toward him and swing hard, when he rushed me and tackled me to the ground. His weight was considerable, especially when he drove a fist into my gut. Air exploded from my lungs, and I struggled to suck in a breath. I had to do something quick. His other hand was trying to pin me down and was dangerously close to my covered tattoo.
