The last of my anger rushed to the surface as I prepared for my final takedown. I visibly winced for him as he held his ribs. Crowding him, I began to punch him repeatedly. Bounty got a lucky shot to my lip, but at this point, he was so far gone, he could barely stand. With one final uppercut, I sent him flying to the floor as the bell for the round rang. KO'd.
Wiping the blood off my lip, I spat it on the floor and made my way over to the corner. Grabbing the offered water bottle, I squirted some in my mouth and over my face to rinse the blood off. The crowd was cheering loudly outside the ring, and as I stepped under the rope, I found one of Mascro's guards waiting for me.
"You've been invited into the VIP section for the evening. Nicolai would like to offer you use of the shower and provide you with any clothes you may need."
What the fuck, this place had a shower? Sure beat the janitor's closet I'd been stuck in. I'd never met the man behind the fights in the year I'd been here, only hearing about him in name.
"Sure, why the hell not," I shrugged. It wasn't like I had anything else going on tonight with my active social calendar.
The guy apparently got a kick out of my answer based on his wide grin. Directing me toward the stairs, I followed him, hoping I wasn't about to be led to some weird sex thing.
Some of the crowd hollered at me as I passed, some were congratulating, and some yelled for knocking out Bounty so quickly. It wasn't my fault the guy was named after a paper towel brand. I tuned them all out. I didn't care. I wasn't here to fight for their entertainment. Fighting was the only thing that kept me sane.
We came to a stop in front of a portable shower stall I'd never noticed before. Wow, the mafia had everything in these warehouses. Stepping through the door, it was clean and had more room than I'd expected. There was room to change and a bench and shower portion. Stripping, I tossed my sweaty clothes on the ground before stepping under the water spray. I was surprised when hot water rained down on me. Fuck, it must be nice being these guys.
After a few minutes, I heard the door open and assumed it was the guard dude bringing me the clothes he'd mentioned. When the curtain moved, I glanced over, confused about what he wanted in my shower. Instead of the burly guy who'd led me here, a tall, picturesque blonde stood smiling at me. Oh, did I mention she was naked? Her tits were clearly fake with how perky they were. She looked young, too.
Sighing, I turned my back to her, hoping she'd take the hint. I didn't want to deal with her, and the fact that my cock was still flaccid meant that part of me didn't either.
"A gift for you," she attempted seductively, touching my back.
What part of me turning away from her communicated, ‘yes, bitch, please, invade my privacy?' The media harped about consent for women, but did they ever consider consent for men? Hell no, we were always expected to want it, so we weren't given a choice. The belief we should be so lucky if a woman wanted to have sex with us. Fucking insane.
"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I'm not interested. Go." I threw it over my shoulder, not even wanting to see her.
"But Mr.—"
"I'm. Not. Interested."
Turning back around, I decided to just get out of here. Twisting the water off, I walked past her frozen form and grabbed the towel hanging there. Drying myself quickly, I threw back on my clothes in a hasty manner. I'd just leave. It wasn't worth it if I was going to be expected to do something for this dude. It had to be the only reason he was lavishing me with gifts now. He wanted something. They always did.
Unlucky for them, I no longer gave a shit about stuff and had nothing left to lose. They'd already taken everything. Walking out, I passed the confused bouncer and just nodded.
"I left her nice and wet for you, man. Better go check."
Ha, let him try to figure that one out. Maybe he would go sex her up, and then the VIP guy would forget about me. He headed into the shower stall, allowing me to make a quick exit of my own.
Stepping outside, the cool air kissed my wet skin, but it was a welcomed relief after the hot insides of the fight ring. Walking over to my bike, I picked up my helmet from my handlebars and strapped it on. Straddling the one possession I still owned, I sat for a minute, taking time to relax.
I'd made it another night without being killed. How fucking sad was it that was how I measured my days?
Deciding to ignore the question, I revved my bike and pulled out of the lot. The vibrations and power under me relaxed me as I drove away. Some days I dreamt of driving and never stopping. But how far would I get before my troubles caught up with me? Not far enough.